Five Weddings and a Funeral
by Mad-like
Summary: A Sam and Mercedes story featuring four weddings obs and a funeral. My muse this time is every chapter comes from "Genius Loves Company", Ray Charles and a plus one. So let's start out seven years from now.
1. Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?

Every prompt comes from an album by Ray Charles – Genius Loves Company. First up is "Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?" (Ray Charles and Bonnie Raitt).

* * *

><p><em>Do you ever want to know<br>Do all dreams go on endlessly?  
>Or do they just run down somehow<br>And gradually become the custody  
>Of that melancholy jailer<br>For the time, oh no  
>Do I ever, darlin'<br>Ever cross your mind?_

Sam Evans let his gaze float over Quinn Fabray, who this time needed an escort to her mother's wedding. Ironically their relationship started junior year in high school with Quinn needing to be seen with something good-looking hanging on her arm here they are, replaying the same story seven years later. Well, at least he's getting something out of it this time, Sam's seen places he never would have been able to afford on his own, like that film festival in Venice a couple of years ago. Arm candy for a soap opera queen ain't a bad life. All in all he could have done a lot worse. Hell, he had done worse. Selfish, jealous, manipulative, lying thieves. He'd dated them all. As a girlfriend of convenience, Quinn is a prize.

Currently they're in a coffee house in Lima, Ohio, one of those places on his 'never wanted to see again' list, and Quinn's going on about the wedding, his current escort duty. One good thing about Quinn is she's sensitive to his financial situation, which only recently moved from iffy to stable. For once in his life he can actually afford Breadstix but out of habit they're sitting in an inexpensive coffee house instead of something more upscale as Quinn prefers. Not really prefers but likes to be seen in. Good for her career. The food's good and the live music being played in the back room, what he can hear of it, is better than most. Somebody, maybe two people, are playing the hell out of their guitars and the crowd back there likes it.

After the applause dies down Sam swears he hears a voice he'd recognize anywhere.

_Do I ever cross your mind_  
><em>Uninvited?<em>  
><em>When you're lonely<em>?  
><em>Or does it only<br>Happen to me?_

Sam looked up, shocked. Somehow he thought she'd be long gone from Lima but swears he hears her singing, just like she always is when he thinks of her.

"Sam, you look like you just saw a ghost." Quinn said, blond hair swishing as she looks around after she finally noticed he has stopped listening to her. "What is it?" Sam stood up and looked into the back room.

Two little girls were sitting on the edge of a low stage, one dark with her hair in two puffy ponytails, one younger with wavy black hair. Both are applauding and grabbing the singer's leg. The singer sat down on the floor, wrapped her arms around both girls and together they sang "Itsy Bitsy Spider." It must be a regular occurrence because the crowd seemed to expect it and sings along. Then she laughed and picked up the younger girl. A tall white guy scooped up the older girl. "Time to put the babies to bed. Say goodnight, Gracie."

"Goodnight Gracie!" the crowd yelled.

They headed towards the back of the coffeehouse.

"It's Mercedes. From high school, glee club?"

"Really?" Quinn took a hard look at the dark-skinned woman with short curly hair. " She definitely blossomed. She used to be quite chunky as I remember. I wonder if those are her kids."

Curvy is the word Sam would have used but maybe because Quinn is so thin everybody else seems chunky to her. The older girl would be hers, a cocoa baby just like she always wanted. If that guy was her husband they could both be hers. Quinn jumped up before Sam could stop her.

"Mercedes!" she hugged the black woman. "It's so great to see you again!"

Mercedes shifted the little girl to one hip and hugged her back. "Quinn! You're in town for the wedding? Of course you'd come back. Why didn't I think of that?"

"You heard about my mom's wedding?"

"Just the social event of the year."

"Are you coming?"

"I have to..." she finally noticed Sam sitting there, trying to look casual. "Sam!"

"Hello Mercedes."

She looked from Sam to Quinn. "Of course." She sounded irritated, just slightly. Anybody except Sam would have missed it. "Joe! Look who turned up. Remember I told you Quinn's mother is getting married this weekend? Quinn, Sam. You remember Joe, he came to McKinley the middle of your senior year?"

"Great seeing you guys again. Come back tomorrow when I don't have an armful of cranky baby and we can talk about the old days." He started to walk away. "I'll get started Mercy."

"Give me a second." Mercedes said. She stood there awkwardly for a minute.

"Are those your girls?" Quinn asked.

"Yes and no." She pointed to the girl Joe was holding. "That's Marti, Martha really, and she's mine. This is Gabe, Gabriel, and he's a he. I keep telling her he needs a haircut. People make that mistake all the time." She seemed to make up her mind about something. "I have to help put them to bed. Nice seeing both of you again." She left the coffeehouse through a back door.

"That's weird." Quinn said watching them leave. "I wonder if this is some kind of hippie commune. Wasn't Joe the guy with the dreads? Wonder who Gabe's mother is." Sam was also watching her walk away. Damn, that brought back memories, memories of her walking away from him. Well at least she won't be at the wedding.

* * *

><p>Joe and Mercedes sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching the children brush their teeth.<p>

"Aren't we shooting that wedding?" he asked.

"Yup. Ms. Fabray, soon to be Smythe insisted on me. We go way back, Judy and I. Smythe's son Sebastian, he's still the" she lowered her voice "ass" then continued at her normal tone "he was in high school. But his dad's okay. I met him a couple of times and he agreed to an outrageous fee. That's how I can afford to pay you. Most people balk at paying extra for video, but Judy and Andrew didn't mind it. Plus it'll be nice to have company. How the heck did I forget Sam and Quinn would be joined at the hip?"

"Quinn, I remember, queen of the school. Sam was there too?"

"Sam Evans is a man of mystery." She adopted a German accent. "Alvays coming and going and going and coming." Joe looked at her, puzzled. "Blazing Saddles? You never saw that? Jeez, I know you were homeschooled but didn't you have a TV?" She sighed, "I'll show it to you to sometime. It's good if you like stupid puns. Sam liked stupid puns."

Joe noticed the tone of her voice and raised one eyebrow. "Regrets?"

"Life is full of regrets."

"True. Anyway, who's on story duty tonight, you or me?"

"Why don't you take them? I'll go help Santana close up."

* * *

><p>"So Sexy Sam is back in town?" the pretty Latina asked, putting chairs up on the tables so she could sweep the floor. Santana had learned long ago not to call Sam Trouty in front of Mercedes.<p>

"Was it on the news and I missed it?"

"No, I could smell the pheromones." Santana moved to the next table, standing next to Mercedes._  
><em>

"They looked so damned cute together. They always did, that's why Schuester liked to put them front and center."

"He was kind of an ass, the way I remember it." Santana picked up an expensive pair of sunglasses from the floor. "Somebody will be back for these. Anyway, since Quinn's snagged Sam, when are you going to move on?"

"Me? Do you want to get rid of me that badly? Cause Tina would take me in in a heartbeat."

"Hell no. If you ran off you'd have to leave Marti behind. Her, I love! Beside that Tim and Alice would kick my ass for letting you get away while they're gone. And Tina's only three blocks away, I'd drag you back from there."

* * *

><p>The room had been rearranged when Sam came back the next morning. What was a stage last night held a sofa and a coffee table now. Mercedes was sitting on the floor at the coffee table, with Gabe and Marti, all of them eating oatmeal, when Sam entered the coffeehouse.<p>

"Good morning!"

"Hey." She got to her feet and hurried over to the counter. "How can I help you?" He looked at her, head tilted to one side. "This is a coffeehouse." She supplied helpfully. "We sell food. That's how we pay the rent."

"I thought you were a singer." He gave her one of his best smiles.

"Oh, I'm a woman of many skills. Right now I'm a woman running a coffee house." She actually looked happy for a change. Of course he hadn't seen her in person for a few years, maybe she's happier these days.

"And feeding the babies breakfast."

"Yes, it's slow this early in the morning. Did you decide what you want yet?"

"No, actually Quinn forgot her sunglasses. She thinks she may have left them here."

"Oh. Quinn." That irritated tone again. "Lost and Found is right over there." She pointed to the box on a nearby table.

Sam looked though the box. "Found them." He looked at Mercedes with concern. "I heard about Shane." he said finally.

"You and everybody else in America."

"Not Quinn. She drew a blank on the whole thing."

"Where I'm concerned Quinn always draws a blank. Maybe only people who watch ESPN paid attention. That's some consolation."

"Well, I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

"Thank you." She looked off towards the children and then back at Sam. "Don't look at me like that. I'm okay. It was three years ago. A lifetime. Everything's fine now."

"So Marti's three?"

"Yes. " Mercedes blinked. "I tell her stories about the good days. When she's older she can read about the other part." She shook her head slightly, shaking away a memory. "Anyway, what about you and Quinn? Married yet?"

"No. We..." he was interrupted by the tinkling of a bell hung over the front door.

"Hey running buddy, you ready to...Sam! I can't believe it! Sexy Sam is back in town!" the short Asian woman handed the baby she was carrying to Mercedes and wrapped her arms around Sam. "God, if I weren't already married! You don't have an insanely jealous wife hiding in the back room do you?"

"He's with Quinn now." Mercedes said.

"I didn't say that." Sam objected.

Mercedes raised on eyebrow. "Whatever." she turned to the children "Sara's here to play with you while Mommy Mercy goes for a run. Let's go wake up Mommy Tana." She led the children out of the coffeehouse. Mommy Tana, Mommy Mercy? Quinn was right, it did sound like a polygamist cult. And Joe did have somewhat unusual religious views. But Santana?

"Mommy Tana as in Santana?"

"One in the same." She rolled her eyes. "Don't ask."

"Okay. So Tina, how are you? That's a pretty baby, what I saw of her."

"Sara. Sara Ann Abrams. I'm an old married lady now. Don't act like you didn't know cause I invited you to the wedding. That was a very nice present you sent us."

"Sorry I couldn't make it here for the ceremony. Finances. I don't remember getting an invitation to Santana's wedding."

"Because there wasn't one. It's the world's weirdest setup. Mercedes invested some money in this coffeehouse, Tim and Alice actually own and run the place, They're guitarists, insanely good and on tour right now. Anyway, two years ago Santana blew into town, about to drop a baby any minute. Perfect timing cause..." she frowned about something. "Anyway, Mercedes always had a soft spot for Santana so here she stayed. One big happy. I think the kids are confused, they call everybody mommy. As for getting married, Joe's been trying to drag her to the altar. Good luck with that." She rolled her eyes again. "So, How long will you be in town? Artie would love to see you. I'll try to pull something together with all of us who are still here."

"Who's that?"

"Artie, Puck, Santana, Finn. Hah! That's about it really. Everybody else got the hell out of Dodge. You busy tonight?"

"Tonight? Rehearsal dinner. That's why I'm here, Quinn's mom is getting married and she needed an escort."

"Escort? She's not your girlfriend?"

"No, I just go places with her when she needs arm candy. It's for her job, her image. She just won a daytime Emmy in case you haven't heard."

"Yay, Quinn! But this escort thing?" Tina was intrigued. "She's a pain in the ass but I can't believe that's the only way she can get a man to go out with her."

"So anyway," Sam changed the subject. "How did Mercedes take the Shane situation?"

* * *

><p>Next up - Michael McDonald and "The Shane Situation"<p>

BTW - best new thing today? flagfic dot com. You can paste in a URL from this site and get the whole story, chapters and everything, formatted as an ebook. Great if you want to read offline.


	2. Hey Girl

_Hey girl, I want you to know  
>I'm gonna miss you so much if you go<br>Hey girl, I'll tell you no lie  
>Something deep inside of me is going to die<br>If you say so long, if this is goodbye  
><em>

_"Hey Girl" (Ray Charles featuring Michael McDonald)_

* * *

><p><strong>Four years after McKinley - Three (or so) years before chapter one.<strong>

If Mercedes had not picked that exact second to look up, they never would have seen each other. Sam was walking idly down the street, gazing into the windows of the shops and hotel restaurants that lined the block. He would have never noticed the black woman sitting alone at a table next to the window if she hadn't looked up. But she did look up and found herself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes. It was instinct that made her wave, and a different instinct made her wish she hadn't. Sam's face glowed when he recognized her, then clouded over. He decided to enter the restaurant anyway.

"Hello!" They hugged awkwardly.

"Have a seat!" She still had that brilliant smile. "You're not on you way somewhere, are you?"

"No, I'm on way back from somewhere. Business meeting."

"Really? Business must be good. That's a pricey looking suit." She gently rubbed the lapel between her fingers. Expensive. Kurt had taught her and she taught Shane what quality clothing looks and feels like. Kurt's taste in clothing was another story but had improved, in Mercedes opinion, now that he was spending his own money.

She was looking very pricey herself, Sam thought, in a navy blue suit. It was sexy in a classy way, what Sam imagined society ladies wore to charity functions. Or women with husbands who just signed $40 million dollar contracts. "Well, if I'm on my way anywhere it's to Kurt's apartment. I borrowed this from Blaine and should get it back before I spill something on it."

"Oh?" Sam couldn't tell if she was really interested or just being polite.

"Yes, I made a pitch to a big shot executive for a web show I hope to produce. According to Blaine the best way to get money is to look like you don't need it. Kurt styled me, that's what he called it."

"He did a good job." Mercedes wondered if Kurt was also responsible for the haircut. The whole effect was nice, really nice. But Sam always could rock that sincere All-American look, couldn't he? Mercedes reminded herself she was married. "You might want to hold off on going over there. We were supposed to have lunch and bitch about men. Then Blaine came home early from a business trip and, well, you can see how that ended."

"I saw that press conference." He said sincerely. "I'm really sorry, Mercedes."

"Thank you." She twisted the napkin in her hand. Sam noticed her surprisingly plain engagement ring and wedding band. The engagement ring that his girlfriend declined was gaudier than that. "That's why I came to New York. Shane gave me a heads up. He is the father of that model's baby. And there's other possible baby mamas out there. That's why I've been crying on Kurt's shoulder for the last four days. I didn't want to do the whole 'stand by your man' thing. According to Kurt you have to have a real man before you can stand by him and surprisingly enough real men don't find themselves in this situation." She sipped from her wine glass. "Did you see her? She's beautiful. Tall and blonde. Who doesn't like a tall blonde?"

"Me." He wondered if touching her hand would be appropriate in this situation. He decided not to.

She said nothing for a few minutes. "That's sweet. So I left before the horde of reporters showed up. I didn't want to run a gauntlet." she pointed at an empty wine glass on the table. "Join me?"

"How many have you had?"

"A few. It's no problem. I was staying with Kurt but kind of got kicked out when his husband came home. Or maybe I can't stand seeing happy couples these days. Anyway, I checked in here so I only have to stumble upstairs after lunch."

"He's a fucking idiot. Cheating on you like that."

"I guess that's karma for ya."

"No, Mercedes. You've never done anything to deserve this kind of public humiliation. It's not like Shane was some guy nobody every heard of, he's an NFL star with two Superbowl rings. He has a beautiful wife and he had to go do something asinine like that."

"Enough about my 'marriage'." She said with air-quotes. "The whole damn country has an opinion on that. How are you? A web show you said?"

"Well, if you want to talk about things nobody gives a damn about..." He spent the next two hours talking about college, his degree in graphic arts, his idea for a webshow, a graphic novel he was working on. She seemed interested, asked him how webshows were financed, how they earned money, how to see his work on-line. He'd forgotten how easy she was to talk to.

"I need to get this suit back to Blaine, but if you're not busy, would like to have dinner tonight?"

* * *

><p>Sam sat in the lobby, waiting for her and their dinner date. Correction, not a date, just two old friends going out to dinner. Definitely not a date. And when she stepped out of the elevator she didn't look radiant, just happy. Happy to be away from the circus her life had become. And then she got a good look at him. Disappointed. She definitely looked disappointed. Of course she was, here she was looking like she'd just stepped out of a magazine in a purple dress that knew where to cling and where to let go and he looked like he was going fishing, in jeans and a polo.<p>

"I feel terribly under-dressed." He said with a small smile. "I guess it's not what you're used to."

"No, it's fine. You look fine." God, he did look fine, even better than he did in that expensive suit. "I'm overdressed. I should have asked where we were going. Give me a minute to change." she looked into his eyes and smiled. "Matter of fact, why stand around in the lobby? Come on up, it'll just be a minute."

She's married the voice in his head said. "Okay, just for a minute."

Sam stood next to the door as she rummaged through a small suitcase that was laying open on the bed. "How much longer will you be here?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. Hopefully the vultures will find another carcass to feed on." she found what she was looking for and carried it into the bathroom. "Be right back."

When she came out her hair was pulled back loosely and she was wearing jeans, a purple sweater and matching high-tops. If possible, she looked even better than before.

"You look beaut...nice." Sam suddenly had trouble breathing.

"You look nice, too." Sam took one step toward her and stopped. "So where are we going?" She asked. "Kurt says you live in New Jersey? There's got to be someplace nice between here and there."

"You talked to Kurt?"

"We were supposed to have dinner. After the way he stood me up at lunch I figured he wouldn't be too upset about dinner with just Blaine. I could call him back and we could all go out to dinner together if you want."

"No," He said quickly. "If you don't mind going to New Jersey I have a friend that owns a restaurant. It's nothing fancy, not like the kind of place you normally go to, but it's good home-style cooking."

"We don't always go to fancy places. We used to like to eat at home. At least I liked it. Shane has this nutritionist, they tried to bulk him up, more muscle and less fat they said. Learning how to cook is how I dropped that weight. Damn that's pathetic." She took a deep breath. "Yes, let's go to New Jersey."

* * *

><p>"Hello sweetie, what's up?" Patrice, a young black woman, greeted Sam warmly while eyeing his dinner companion. Sam had good taste in women, she had to give him that. Good taste and bad luck.<p>

"Patrice, meet Mercy. An old friend from high school. I raved about the food here so serve us the fresh stuff."

"Fresh! It's all fresh. And it's good now that I've hired a decent cook." She winked at Mercedes. "You wouldn't believe the profit this man burned through. He almost to single handedly drove my grandma into bankruptcy."

"People came here just to eat my food!" Sam declared. "So what's cooking with the new cook?"

"None of your damned business, that's what!" She swatted at Sam with a menu. Then she handed one to Mercedes. "Anything to drink, Mercy? Iced tea for him, he's so predictable. I'll get Pete started on your hamburger now."

"Water please. And I'll take a hamburger too." Patrice couldn't help but notice the wedding ring when Mercedes handed the menu back. She frowned at Sam.

Again, the time flowed by without either of them noticing it. That is until Patrice started flicking the lights. "Not to be rude, but yeah, I am. Sam, get out!"

* * *

><p>Mercedes sat on the edge of the weight bench, the only place to sit in his apartment besides the bed, and wished he would stop apologizing. Did he have to use "Not what you're used to" in every sentence? Yes, his apartment was small and oddly furnished, but it worked for him. A weight bench instead of a coffee table, a drafting table instead of a dining room table. Okay, he was an artist who liked to work out. No shame in that.<p>

"So, now you've seen it. Want to head back to Manhattan now?"

"Yeah, about that. Sam, can I ask you a favor? A ridiculously huge, obnoxious favor?"

He was standing as far away from her as he could in this tiny apartment. "What?"

"Can I spend the night here, or you can spend the night there? It's not what you think. It's..." she stood up and started pacing, due to the size of the room that meant doing laps around the weight bench. "This whole thing has been going on for months now. I mean I've known the general outlines of the situation for a couple of months. This week is just the DNA confirmation which they couldn't do until after the baby was born. Anyway, we haven't been like a married couple for months now, but we've been living in the same house. Just somebody else in the house is all I've wanted lately. So..." She said slowly. "When the test results came back I went to Tina's, San Francisco. She was out of town on business but arranged for a neighbor to give me a key. It was the first time I've been alone since this started. I couldn't sleep, didn't sleep for three days. Kurt would call me up at night and sing lullabies. Nothing. I just sat up all night watching infomercials. Then one day I opened the door and Kurt's standing there insisting I come here. I could go back to his place, Blaine wouldn't care. I just hoped..."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. What she was asking was a huge favor. Where would she sleep? How could he sleep with her in the same room? He looked around the room aimlessly.

"I can sleep on the floor. I don't mind." She said, reading his mind. "Shit! I'm sorry, this is crazy. I can get back to the hotel on my own." She stood up and grabbed per purse. "I'm a grown woman, I have to get used to this."

"No!" he almost yelled. "No. It'll be okay. You can have the bed. It's fine. You know me, I'm nothing if not a gentleman."

* * *

><p>If the point to this was she couldn't sleep in a room by herself, this was even worse. Neither one of them could sleep. He could hear her tossing and turning. Sam wasn't making much noise but he was definitely awake.<p>

Finally he sat up, walked to the kitchen and came back with two beers. "Maybe this will help. I'm sure it's not what you're used to." He sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's not like I brush my teeth with champagne." She sipped the beer. "And what did that fancy-schmancy life style get me? You think a supermodel would have looked twice at Shane the software engineer?"

"Maybe not a supermodel but if he's that type he would have found somebody." She sighed and drank more beer. "So what are you going to do?"

"Hell if I know. I guess I could forgive him, but what about the others? He said they're just opportunists. Hah, what does that make him? Sounds like he took every opportunity that came his way. I can't believe I fucked this up so badly."

"You? What did you do wrong?"

"From the day you showed up in Lima I've made one mistake after another. Even before that if I'm honest with myself. Even before you came back my relationship with Shane was all about feeling obligated. He cried when we broke up, you got angry. I know that's irrational but that's how it looked to me. You stopped talking to me, he kept calling me. He's persistent, I'll give him that. "

Instead of arguing about his reaction to that kiss-off song she choose to sing he tried another tactic. "So how many girlfriends and outside children are you willing to tolerate?" He was leaning against the bed, his head close to her bare knee, acutely aware that she was only wearing that University of Maryland t-shirt he lent her. "You don't have to put up with that shit."

"Do you still play?" She asked suddenly. "I didn't notice your guitar anywhere."

"No, I kind of lost track of it. We moved a lot, I didn't have much time to play and it was just in the way."

"That's too bad, you were so good."

"Well, to tell you the truth I sold it. My mom got sick and..."

"I thought you said everything was fine with your family." She mentally made a list of what she could do to help.

"It is. Now. Anyway she got sick. We found a program to pay for her medicine but there's other stuff, stuff to make things easier for her. I got her one of those ebook things. She's a big reader, I don't know if you knew that. She could go to the library and use the free wi-fi, Stevie and Stacey liked that part. The money was better spent there than on a useless guitar."

Mercedes absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder. He leaned against her arm. "You know, I almost got married once, a couple of years ago."

"Quinn?"

"No. What is your obsession with Quinn? I never understood that. No, it was Patrice."

"From the diner?"

"One and the same. She said something's wrong with my aura, something I need to deal with or let go of. Reading auras is some new age thing she believes in. I'd laugh it off but she can really call 'em. She can spot an ass-hole from a mile away. Anyway, she says she's not the marrying type."

"I'm wondering if I'm the staying married type."

"Maybe you're married to the wrong person." He climbed on the bed and put his arm around her. "At the time I swore I was in love with Patrice. Kurt said I glowed when I talked about her, not like my other scumbag girlfriends. Those are Kurt's words, he can call 'em too. He met Patrice when we were dating. He helped her rebrand the diner, make it look more upscale so she could charge more. I was heartbroken when she said no. But now I see, if I had married her, I'd be screwed. I'd feel obligated to her while I'm in love with you. I've always loved you. I don't know what happened to us back in high school but I want you. Forever."

"But I'm married."

"Marriage is a partnership. You're acting married and he's not. You deserve so much better."

He could see the tracks of the tears rolling down her brown cheeks. He gently tasted them with his tongue. He slowly eased her backwards until she was laying down.

"Sam?"

"Not yet. When you're free, when you have nothing to feel guilty about, come back to me." He held her close and sang a lullaby. "_One day I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me_." He gently kissed the back of her neck. "Come back to me."

"I will. I'll talk to Shane and come back in a couple of weeks. I promise."

* * *

><p>Sam looked around his apartment, hoping it was nice enough for Mercedes when she moved in. The weight bench was gone, traded for a sofa. Not much he could do about the drafting table, he really needed to keep that but with a couple of stools it made a nice dining room table. Soon she'd be here. He answered the knock on the door.<p>

"Hey, Sam!" Patrice was carrying a guitar case. "Present for you."

"You brought me a guitar?"

"Hell no. It was delivered to the diner. I guess they didn't want to leave it in the hall and that was the alternate address. Sure to be somebody there."

He opened the case and pulled out a card from Mercedes. "S, You should have one of these. M"

Patrice lifted the guitar from it's case. "This is nice!" She played with a flourish.

"I didn't know you played. What is that?"

"An Irish jig, can't remember the name. I had four years of formal training."

"I thought you lived in foster care until your grandmother found you."

"Yes, but the foster care was in Washington and there's a public school that that focuses on music. Strings were my speciality." She put the guitar down. "Anyway, who sent this?"

"Mercedes!"

"Married Mercedes?" She asked with a displeased expression. "She seems nice enough, except for the married part. I thought sleeping with married women was where you drew the line."

"Damn you're nosey." But he said it with a smile. "She won't be married much longer."

"Isn't her husband that man-whore football player, built like King Kong?" She frowned again. "Good luck Sam, and be careful."

* * *

><p>"Hey Sam." Mercedes whispered on the other end of the phone line.<p>

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, panicked. "He didn't hurt you or anything? Cause I will come down there and kill him."

"No, I'm fine. Just tired is all."

"Oh. So what time is you flight?" He was smiling, she would hear it in his voice.

"I can't come." She said timidly.

"Can't come tomorrow?" An unpleasant feeling started in the pit of his stomach. "Or can''t come ever?"

"Can't come right now, maybe in a few years."

"Years! You expect me to wait years?"

"Sam, I..."

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's not like this is a total shock." He looked at the guitar. "Was that the point of the guitar, payment for services rendered?"

"No! I want you to have it. It's just things changed when I got back here and I have to stay."

"Why? Because you remembered what a mansion and limos are like? You asked yourself why you'd want to trade down to a fourth floor walk-up?"

"No!"

"Whatever. Listen, somebody's at the door. Gotta go. Bye." He hung up, got a beer and drank it while staring at the guitar.

"Sam! Don't hang up! I can't leave because..." She heard a dial tone.

* * *

><p>Next up - Gladys Knight and "The Shane Situation - part deux"<p> 


	3. Heaven Help Us All

Unlike some people I'm not making you wait seven weeks to find out what happened next. Yeah RIB, I'm talking to you!

* * *

><p><em>Heaven help the boy who won't reach twenty-one,<em>  
><em>Heaven help the man who gave that child a gun.<em>  
><em>Heaven help the people with their backs against the wall,<em>  
><em>Lord, Heaven help us all.<em>

_"Heaven Help Us All" (Ray Charles featuring Gladys Knight)_

* * *

><p><strong>Slight flashback to right before Mercedes called Sam.<strong>

Mercedes heard Shane's key in the front door and took a deep breath. Hell, there's no point dragging this out. She looked around, there's nothing she'd miss from Shane's house. Funny how quickly she started thinking of it as Shane's house, not our house. She still owned the house she grew up in back in Lima. Maybe she could convince Sam to move there. Home. New Jersey could be home, too. Yes, being with Sam is being home. She heard Shane drop his bags in the hallway.

"Shane?"

"Mercy! You've taken to lurking in the dark now?" He asked with a small laugh.

"No, I just wanted to talk to you as soon as you got home."

"Sure. Talk." He sprawled on the leather sofa in the living room.

"I can't stay married to you." Gee, that was easy. "I want a divorce."

"For that fool in New Jersey?"

Mercedes sat down with a thud. How the hell? Shane dropped an envelope on the marble coffee table. "Personally, I don't give a shit but you walk out of here empty handed and the baby stays here."

She opened the envelope. Pictures of her and Sam at the cafe, a picture of them getting in the elevator, him going into her room, in Patrice's diner, leaving his apartment early in the morning. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve."

"Like I said, I don't give a shit. He's not raising my kid, that's all I'm saying."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Sam's not going all over Atlanta looking for your babies."

Shane knew she was rattled now, she only dropped f-bombs when she was really upset. "Your doctor called about those test he ran before you left. When you thought it was just stress? They didn't want to tell me but since I'm paying the bills..." He shrugged. "According to the blood test you're pregnant. They want you to come in for a sonogram. I know that" he pointed to the pictures "is recent but I'll need DNA testing just in case you're trying to slip something by me."

"You've been having me followed?"

"Not my idea. You know lawyers. They figured you'd show up at Kurt's sooner or later." He stood up and yawned. "I'm bushed. Feel free to stay here till the baby's born." He stopped by the door, and turned towards her, his eyes narrowed. "I'll fight you on this and when I say I'll fight for something you know I mean it."

"You'll never win, not after Bridgette."

"Maybe I won't win, but I've got millions to spend tying this up in court. It could take years."

"And you're willing to spend millions out of spite?" She couldn't believe this was the man she married.

"You're going to pay for hurting me this time." He walked out of the room.

Mercedes looked at the guitar in the corner, the mate to the one she sent Sam yesterday. Then she dialled his number.

* * *

><p>After three beers the guitar was still sitting there, mocking him. How could he have been so stupid? Obviously she was just paying Shane back, making things even between them. She's using him just like Quinn did, before they reached an understanding. Damn he wished he'd slept with her when he had the chance. But no, he didn't want to have that thrown back in his face some day years from now. He didn't want to get started on the wrong foot. Lots of good that did him. Well, he still had some pride left. He picked up the guitar and walked out.<p>

Watching Sam walk in the diner Patrice knew she was going to have to kill that bitch in Atlanta. She didn't have to read auras to know something was seriously wrong and she didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce the cause. When she told Sam to be careful she was worried about his emotional, not physical safety and obviously Mercedes did a job on that. Luckily Sam had deep reserves of psychological strength, Patrice could see that even if Sam couldn't.

"You want this?" he asked, placing the guitar on the counter.

"It's beautiful but I can't afford it." She looked into his eyes, eyes she'd never seen so cold.

"I'm giving it to you, a present. You deserve it. Your grandma, god bless her soul, took pity on me. You had the sense not to marry me when I asked. I saw your senior recital on YouTube. You're good and you've been good to me. Take it."

She stroked the guitar lovingly. "Thank you. Don't tell anybody but I really miss playing. I'll hold on to it, but it's still yours. You're going to want it back one day." She hugged him and and stood there for a few minutes while the diner patrons stared at them. "And until you can stand to have it in your house, promise you'll play for me? At least once?"

"Sure. I promise." He pulled away from her and started to leave the diner.

"Tell Kurt I said hello."

"How did you know that's where I'm headed?"

"Where else would you go?"

* * *

><p><strong>Four months later<strong>

"So you sure you want to do this, Mercy?" It had taken months but Shane eventually saw reason. He didn't actually want the baby, he just knew it would kill her to leave the baby behind. As for the money, his mother convinced him he'd be smarter to pile it in the backyard and start a fire than to throw it at lawyers for what? For nothing!

Truthfully, he was pissed off that it was Sam Evans. Again it was Sam. Always it's Sam. Anybody other than that hillbilly and this would have been over months ago. Well, from now on she's Sam's problem.

Truthfully, this marriage ended a long time ago. He was tired of Mercedes and her small town ways. Truthfully a baby was the last thing he wanted and Mercedes was nothing if not maternal. He knew she'd be a great mother. He couldn't imagine what he'd have to pay a nanny to do half the job Mercy would do out of love. And he got off cheap too. Mercedes wanted less than that model did. "I know you and homeboy came to a parting of the ways." Shane couldn't help himself.

"I'm sure, Shane." She slid the papers across the restaurant table. So what if Sam's out of the picture? How long has she known Sam, really? Six months if you add it all together. She needs to get out of this marriage for her own sanity. Twice as much now that there's a baby involved. Shane almost drove her crazy with his freaking mind games. Oh, look - there's whats-his-name with that cheerleader chick at a movie premiere! You know them, don't you? Don't they look happy? Ken and Barbie, right? "I don't want much. I want the baby to be taken care of, that's all. No alimony. Just child support, educational expenses, health insurance. I also want full custody. Generous visitation but the baby lives with me. You come to us. That's it."

Shane glanced at the paperwork. Three thousand a month, nothing by NFL standards. She wasn't asking for the house or for any property. "No lump sum, jewelry, cars?"

"Only one thing of value came out of our marriage. Let's just end it before we hate each other. Right now we're civil. You can live your life the way you want, have as many kids running around as you want, and I'll be home."

"You never liked this lifestyle, did you?"

"I loved you. I wanted to be where you were. The house, the cars, the jewelry. No, I never cared about that."

"Well, maybe if you were like the other wives."

"Maybe, but I'm not. If I were I'd ask for half of that signing bonus." They both smiled a little at that. "But that's not who you married. So is this okay?"

"I need to give it to my lawyer." Shane could have signed right there and there but he wanted her to see his much for generous office, a $2 million lump sum and anything she wanted from the house. Hell, he could afford to be generous, he just signed a $40 million dollar contract with $8 mil cash up front. Mercy, in her way, had been a good wife to him, it's just he grew and she didn't. Sure, Sam haunted the relationship but she'd been as good and loyal a wife as a man could ask for.

"Fine. I'm at the Hilton." She stood up. "Can you call me when you make up your mind?"

"Let me drive you there." Shane stood up and threw two hundred dollar bills on the table before escorting his very pregnant wife from the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Shane and Mercedes were walking across the parking lot towards the black Lincoln Navigator when the kid appeared out of nowhere. "Give me you wallet" he said, aiming a gun at Shane.<p>

"Sure punk, it's only money." Shane reached for his wallet but the kid panicked. As if in slow motion Mercedes saw the kid fire, felt Shane knock her aside, heard Shane fall. Then the kid turned on her.

"You see what can happened. " He snarled. "Same with you. Hand it over."

She reached for her wallet, instead pulling out the pistol Shane had insisted on getting her. "It's dangerous out there, Mercy." Shane said at the time. The kid took one step towards her. She looked into his eyes and the kid made the mistake of smirking. He wasn't afraid of this terrified pregnant black lady. That was a mistake. She slowly squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>Mercedes tried to focus on the doctor's words. Paralyzed. Never walk again. Full time skilled nursing care. That's if, if, he lived. And it was a big if. Her mother was squeezing her right hand, Shane's mother was squeezing her left hand. They're both looking at her, waiting.<p>

"What?" Had he just asked her something?

"Do you want an DNR? Do Not Resuscitate order? In case they can't reach you immediately? If it looks like he's going, do you want him revived?"

"Of course I do! He's still my husband."

Shane's mother looked relieved. Her mother squeezed her hand again. The doctor made a note on Shane's chart.

* * *

><p>Mercedes sat where she spent most of her time lately, by Shane's hospital bed. She showed him pictures of the sonograms. She talked about rearranging the dining room into a bedroom. Didn't he always like the view from those windows? It'll be so beautiful in the spring when the dogwoods bloom. She held his limp hand against her stomach to feel the baby kick. She discussed names. Martha was her grandmother's name so Martha or Martin if it was a boy. Wasn't it better not to know, to be surprised? Shane, or Shanice, for the middle name. That's a classy name, didn't he think? How sorry she was about how things had been headed with them. How hard she would work to make things right. Shane lay there, his eyes sometimes wandering in her direction, unseeing, as she rambled on.<p>

Sometime people from the team came over but mostly it was Mercedes, her mother and Shane's mother. After two week, two weeks before her due date, she woke from her half-asleep mumblings to her mother squeezing her shoulders.

"Mercy, somebody's here to see you."

"A new doctor?"

"No, somebody to see you."

"I can't go, We were just discussing paint colors for the baby's room."

"Honey, I can show him paint swatches as well as you can. You should go." She pointed towards the man standing in the hallway past the open door.

"Kurt! Oh God, I'm so glad to see you!" She almost squeezed the breath out of the tall thin man.

Kurt hugged her and then held her an arm's length back. "You look like shit, baby! When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"Well thanks, I love you too." She felt almost like being home, standing there smelling his cologne.

"Seriously, Cedes. You been sleeping in a closet?" She was suddenly tired and had to sit down in the waiting room. "How many people are going to be helped by your having a physical breakdown? Besides, isn't giving birth hard work? Go say goodby to Shane and we're out of here."

"I can't leave him." She started to cry.

"It's just for one night." He put his arm around her. "He'll be okay for one night. Your mom and his mom are here. There's an army of people to take care of him. Do you think he wants to watch you collapse?" He stood outside of the door to Shane's room. "Say goodnight and you'll treat you to a night of ice cream, facials and manicures. I'll have you back by breakfast, promise."

**Later that night**

"Kurt!"

"What?"

"I need a ride to the hospital."

"Yes, first thing in the morning."

"No, I mean now!"

* * *

><p>"Hi, daddy!" Mercedes held the baby up so Shane could see her. "Martha, meet your daddy. Isn't she beautiful Shane?"<p>

God, she is beautiful Shane thought. Just like her momma. The beautiful brown cocoa baby they always wanted. Damn, I fucked this up. We could have been home, a family, and instead I was out catting around. None of this should have happened. I drove her into his arms and now he'll have everything I ever wanted. Martha made a soft cooing noise. She sounded like a dove, an angel. Shit! All of this could have been mine. A lone tear rolled down his cheek.

"Don't cry, baby! I bring her back tomorrow, I promise." She looked so happy, glowing, standing there holding the baby. "I have to get her back to the nursery, they want me near her, but I'll be back at dinner time. Your dinner time, not hers." She laughed at that. "I'll show you when we get home. It's so weird. My mom said that's what they're there for, not just for fun and games. I have to go for a bit but I'll be back. I love you." She kissed him and squeezed his hand. Did he squeeze back or was that her imagination?

As her hand slipped out of his all the pain left his body. Where did it go? He saw her walking away and saw his dad walking in. His dad? He died ten years ago! Shane felt his dad's hand slip into his. "Hi, daddy!"

* * *

><p>A paralyzed NFL star, a messy divorce, only witness a dead street punk. It was a media circus. Mercedes had snapped over that sexy blonde model and tried to murder Shane and an innocent bystander. Well, a not-so-innocent bystander it turns out. Just ask the other couple he'd robbed at gunpoint earlier that night.<p>

Mercedes had arranged the whole thing then killed the hit-man to cover it up. Anybody who knew her knew that was bullshit. Mercedes would have walked, Sam knew that from bitter experience, all the times she walked out on him.

By the time her baby was born a month later the whole thing was old news. Self-defense, no charges pressed. A healthy girl and let's move on. The baby was born at 6am and Shane died at 6pm that same day. Odd coincidence that, which made for speculation to fill a slow news weekend but even a seasoned reporter can only milk that for so long. There's always somebody else to rake over the coals.

Sam scoured the internet for a picture of the baby. There was just one, Mercedes at Shane's funeral, flanked by Tina and Kurt and holding the baby. Cocoa.

* * *

><p>Next at bat - Johnny Mathis and the Divine Miss T<p>

And hopefully the next episode of Glee will make me a happy girl. I can dream, can't I?


	4. Over The Rainbow

Somewhere over the rainbow  
>Way up high,<br>There's a land that I heard of  
>Once in a lullaby.<p>

Somewhere over the rainbow  
>Skies are blue,<br>And the dreams that you dare to dream  
>Really do come true.<p>

(Over the Rainbow featuring Johnny Mathis)

Tina Cohen-Chang looked at the view from her apartment in San Francisco. Not the greatest view in the world but it was really nice, living here in San Francisco. A place with a Chinatown in a town full of Asians - Chinese, Korean, Thai, a mix of this and that, and everything under the sun. African/Irish, Korean/Latino - you name it San Francisco has it. How in the hell did her Korean father and Jewish mother end up in Lima, Ohio? Leaving that place was the best move she ever made. Here in San Francisco all her dreams came true. Well, the Mike Chang part didn't but a career in fashion design – check. An apartment with a nice view – check. A diverse set of friends - check.

For once in her life when somebody says 'that Chinese girl' it's not her. Actually, it never was her – her dad is Korean, not Chinese, but nobody back then ever bothered to ask. Back there nobody cared about the difference between an hanbok and a kimono. Well, one person did. The one person who's getting her to finally set foot in Lima Ohio again. The person currently sleeping on her bed, her arm around a small baby.

* * *

><p>Of all the kids from high school, Mercedes is the last one Tina would have picked to be the center of a murder scandal. Tina would have put all her chips on Santana, maybe saved a few for Puck. Of course Mercedes had been cleared, she's no murderer. She had a registered gun and a permit to carry it. She did what she had to do to protect herself and Martha.<p>

"I didn't have to shoot him." Mercedes kept saying.

"He didn't have to shoot Shane, did he? He's the one that started that chain of events."

"He had a family, people who loved and cared about him."

"Well he let them all down, didn't he? He wouldn't have hesitated to kill you and the baby."

"I could have aimed for his leg or something. I had training."

"Mercedes, just concentrate on Marti. That's all that matters now. You're not going to jail, be happy about that."

"I killed a teenager. He was only 19."

"And Shane was only 25. Did that kid care?"

"I didn't have to kill him." Mercedes repeated.

"Help me pick out clothes suitable for Atlanta." Tina was getting tired of playing I-didn't-have-to-kill-him and it wasn't doing Mercedes any good either. "I don't want to embarrass myself in front of the football wives. I've been passing myself off as a designer."

"I never exactly fit with the football wives." She picked up a bracelet Tina was working on, turned it over in her hands without looking at it. "Maybe that was the problem, that I didn't fit in. The older ones are okay but some of the ones my age were pretty brain dead. Shane couldn't believe I wasn't going to take him to the cleaners. He called Sam his insurance policy."

"He knew about that?"

"He found out."

Tina rolled her eyes, after making sure Mercedes was not looking at her. Mercedes was always catching shit for the most trivial things where Sam was concerned. "And he said?"

"With one confirmed baby and three near misses there wasn't much he could say. Now he's dead and I killed a kid."

"He was young but not a kid. You killed a thug who already shot one person, that you know of. Somebody who'd already pistol-whipped two other people that night. He was just getting started and you saved a lot of folks from a lot of grief. Let's just go to Atlanta and finish this. The house is sold, let's pack up what you want to take and get you moved to Lima."

* * *

><p>There was very little of her old life Mercedes wanted to take with her. She had a lot of dressy clothes now and no place to wear them. Kurt had picked out most of the furniture when he helped her decorate so she gave him dibs on taking anything he wanted. Between him, Tina and Shane's family the place was picked bare. It really came down to Shane's stuff. What to keep, what to give away. Even that turned out to be easy. Some of the old clothes, from before, she kept. His McKinley letterman jacket, his first nice suit, his sweatshirt from Ohio state, his team jersey. Those went in the "keep" box in case Marti wanted them later. His other suits, much more expensive than the suit she was keeping, she put in the "give away" box. She and Shane had a few friends, mostly younger couples Shane met on recruiting trips, some who didn't make the cut, who could use a nice suit. She'd take care of that later.<p>

Tina and Kurt watched her standing by the window, looking at the creek that flowed through the back yard. She'd miss that, the woods and the creek is why she liked this house. She would have loved a two-room shack on this particular piece of land. This mansion was too much, had always been too much. Well, she didn't have to worry about it anymore. She turned away from the window.

"I'm ready." she took Marti from Kurt's arms. She was only two months old but even she knew better than to throw up on Kurt. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Sam said he didn't have your number but he'd like you to call him when you get the chance." Tina said, watching Mercedes breastfeeding Marti amid the clutter of boxes from Atlanta, still there after three months.<p>

"Why?"

"Why? Why do you think? A close friend went through a series of traumatic events in the course of two weeks."

"Sam's perfectly happy these days. I saw him with Quinn at Aspen for a film festival. Sure we used to be friends, but.."

"Did you ever talk to him about what happened back in New York?"

"What's to talk about? I tried to explain and he hung up."

"It might be nice to talk to him. Like you said he is a friend. But I guess Artie's keeping you pretty busy."

"Artie?" Mercedes shifted the baby to her other breast. "Don't tell me you're jealous after all these years?"

"Hell to the no! I just couldn't help but notice him making breakfast this morning."

"He's keeping me company. And not that kind of company. I know I said I've never lived alone and wanted to try it out, but I hate living alone – just me and Marti in this big house. Artie wanted to try living away from his parents now that he's out of college and this house is wheel-chair friendly from when my grandma lived here. He's really good with Marti."

"He is? How does he manage?"

"He's not weak. He can drop the side on her crib and change her diaper. He takes her on rides around the house. We take her to the park when it's nice out."

"He seemed so helpless back in high-school."

"That was his mom's doing. She felt so guilty, she was driving when they were in that accident. I think she was trying to make it up to him but she overcompensated."

"Kinda like that anonymous donation you made to that kid's family?"

"They were getting evicted. Least I could do."

"Yeah."

"Artie felt the same way you do. Guilt's a useless emotion he says. It's not bringing the kid back and it's not going to make him walk."

"And speak of the devil!" Artie said wheeling himself in through the back door. "Tina, can you help me with the groceries?" He lifted the bag in his lap. "They put the ice cream on the bottom and it's icing down parts I don't need iced. And Mercedes! Cover! There's innocent eyes in the house."

"Nothing you haven't seen before, way I heard it." But she adjusted her blouse for modesty.

"A gentleman never tells. So, Miss T, how long will you be gracing us with your presence?"

"Just a couple of weeks. I'm working on some designs and I can do that here or there. It's just the fittings I need to go back for."

"Not Jason?" Mercedes asked.

"Who's Jason?"

"My boyfriend." Artie made an exaggerated sad face. "Actually my ex-boyfriend." Artie grinned.

"Ex?" Mercedes asked.

"Yes. Real control freak. I found him trolling through my email account. What the fuck? Anything I want him to see I'll show him. He said it's about honesty. I think it's about privacy."

"Did you ever think of moving back here?" Artie asked. "For good."

"I had a dream about it once." Tina shivered at the memory. "Woke up in a cold sweat. Nope, the first time I saw it I knew San Francisco was the place for me. Remember the first time we saw it?"

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback to senior year<strong>

Blaine looked around the rehearsal room in disgust. If possible, and this seemed impossible to him, New Directions was even more disorganized than it had ever been. Things started off promisingly that September.

"This year is all about fresh starts." Mr. Schuester waved his arms, figuratively embracing everyone in the choir room. "From twelfth place the first time we went to Nationals, to 3rd place last year. If we all work really hard we've got it locked up. This year everybody, I mean everybody, will get a change to shine."

And he really meant it, until Harmony transferred to McKinley. From the moment she walked into the choir room it was the Harmony/Blaine show. Schuester just couldn't help himself. Of course, the Harmony/Blaine show got them to Nationals, and Mr. Schuester barely noticed that Tina, Mercedes and Artie missed most of the practices. They would go off and work on the group piece. Schuester didn't seem to care about that either, that they told, not asked, him what they were going to perform. Schuester was too busy coaching his "stars" and let the rest of the club take care of itself.

Blaine once asked Mercedes why they stayed in Glee club. San Francisco was her answer. They wanted to see San Francisco. Well, they'd made it and now there's a problem.

"Mercedes?" Blaine waited while she removed her earphones with an exaggerated sigh. "Have you seen Harmony?"

Mercedes looked around and then remembered. If Harmony were sitting in the green room with the rest of them Blaine wouldn't have just asked her that question. She tapped Tina on the shoulder.

"Tina, have you seen Junior?" Rachel Junior was their name for Harmony. Tina did the same thing Mercedes had done. She looked around, her eyes finally settling on Sugar.

"Hey Sug! Where's Harmony?"

Sugar looked around, panicked. "Oh My God!" and dashed from the room.

"Blaine." Schuester walked in. "I want to go over the opening number again."

"I can't find Harmony."

"What do you mean, you can't find her?" He looked as panicked as Sugar had been. "We go on in twenty minutes!"

"I can't find her!" Blaine ran his hands through his curly black hair as he mentally ran down songs he could do on his own.

Artie looked up from the video game he was playing with Joe. "What's wrong?"

"Harmony's in the bathroom and she won't come out." Sugar said, running back into the green room. "I need help!"

Neither Mercedes or Tina moved a muscle. "Aren't you going to help?" Schuester asked.

"I tried to help you a week ago." Mercedes said calmly. "I told you she was freaking out. But no, you didn't listen, you knew what you were doing." Mercedes looked back at her magazine. Schuester looked at Mercedes, shocked that she picked this moment to launch an insurrection. Then he looked at Tina, pleading with his eyes.

"Sure, Mr. Schuester. I'll help. We'll both help." She held out her hand to Mercedes, who sat there pouting. "Come on, take one for the team." Mercedes rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Hey Harmony, it's me, Tina." Tina and Mercedes knelt next to Sugar in front of the closed bathroom stall door. They were answered by the sound of retching.

"That ain't good." Mercedes mumbled.

"Are you okay, baby?" Sometimes you had to treat Harmony like an infant and Tina was the only one with the patience to do it. More retching. It wasn't working.

"How are we doing on time?" Tina asked Mercedes.

"10 minutes."

"Plan B?" Tina sent a text to Artie.

"It's a go!" Mercedes stood up and brushed off her dress. Then she offered Tina a hand up. "Harmony? Blaine and Mr. Schuester are coming in, okay?" More retching.

"Harmony needs to see you guys in the bathroom." Artie said, reading the text. "It's vital." Blaine and Schuester left the room. Then Artie wheeled himself over to Joe.

* * *

><p>From the bathroom Will heard applause. New Directions was up and his stars were stuck in the bathroom. Then he heard a guitar playing and singing. He recognized Tina's voice, clear and strong.<p>

_Where troubles melt like lemon drops_  
><em>Away above the chimney tops<em>  
><em>That's where you'll find me.<em>

He left Sugar and Blaine in the bathroom to go backstage. Mercedes was playing a guitar and joining Tina on the chorus. Since when did Mercedes play the guitar? Then he noticed the crowd's reaction. All the other choirs went big for this competition. Broadway, pop, soul. Mercedes and Tina were going coffeehouse all over this song, Will had never heard this arrangement before, and it was different enough to make the judges and audience notice. Would they like it? Well, they'd certainly remember it.

Suddenly Blaine was standing beside him. "Thank god somebody had a back-up plan." he said.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_  
><em>Bluebirds fly.<em>  
><em>Birds fly over the rainbow.<em>  
><em>Why then, oh why can't I?<em>

"Ladies and Gentlemen – New Directions!" Tina stood back while Artie led the rest of New Directions on-stage for the group number, Mercedes slipped offstage to talk to Blaine about the final number.

**End flashback**

* * *

><p>"He laughed when I said it that day in class but I sang lead and won a National title! And remember, we blew off his little party and went to see the sunset on the Golden Gate Bridge? I knew San Francisco was my place over the rainbow. You should come visit, Artie!"<p>

"Really. You should." Mercedes added. "You thought Alice's bookkeeping system was crazy, you ain't seen nothing! I tried to straighten it out when I was there but it's insane. She's probably bankrupt already and just doesn't know it."

"I can't just leave you high and dry." He complained, taking the baby she offered to him.

"I didn't say you should move there and get married. Didn't you say just last week you needed a vacation? Tina offered, jump on it before she comes to her senses! Besides, Marti and I can always go pester Tim and Alice if we get lonely. We'll just kick out whatever random musician they have visiting them. They love our company, well her's."

"Well.." Artie hedged.

"Well it's decided!" Tina said firmly. "Come visit me next month. Golden Gate bridge, baby!"

* * *

><p>I had to cheat on this one. Johnny Mathis's silky smooth voice is on the album, but Eva Cassidy's playing in my head and that's the arrangement Tina sang.<p>

Next - Willie Nelson!


	5. It Was a Very Good Year

_When I was twenty-one_  
><em>It was a very good year<em>  
><em>It was a very good year for city girls<em>  
><em>Who lived up the stair<em>  
><em>With all that perfumed hair<em>  
><em>And it came undone<em>  
><em>When I was twenty-one<em>

"It Was a Very Good Year" (Ray Charles featuring Willie Nelson)

* * *

><p>Note: This takes place during that period of time where Shane is blackmailing Mercedes but before Sam realized Mercedes was pregnant.<p>

* * *

><p>"So, are you going to tell me what the big surprise is?" Sam had been mysterious all day, keeping her out of her own apartment. Finally Patrice demanded to be let in.<p>

"Close your eyes!" The tall black woman complied. "Okay, give me your hand." She felt Sam's warm hand slip into hers. "Okay, careful! And don't open your eyes." She heard music and smelled, sulfur like a match had just been light. Then she smelled Chinese food.

"Now?"

"Okay, now!" She opened her eyes. He'd cleaned up her apartment, as in put away all the stuff she left laying around. The dining room table was set with china, wineglasses, flowers and candles.

"Oh, Sam! It's beautiful." She kissed her new/old boyfriend. "You know there's a walk-in refrigerator full of food downstairs, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm tired of your cooking." he teased.

"I'm tired of your cooking too. To what do I owe this honor?" She sat down in the chair he pulled out.

"You agreed to go out with me again." His green eyes twinkled. "That's worth celebrating."

"I agreed to that last month. Why today?"

"I found a producer!"

"You did? Oh, Sam, that's great!" She leaned across the table to kiss him. "How'd you find him? Is it a him?"

"I don't know, it's an investment company and I deal with their lawyer. I've got $70K and a year. They want to see a sneak peak that they're going to post on-line and they want it like last week. Then drafts of the first six episodes within 4 months."

"How many do you have already?"

"Four. I can do it but I need music. I figured if I got on your good side you'd let me have some of the songs you wrote back in the day. It would save me a ton of time." He gave her his most irresistible smile.

"Yeah, take whatever you need. Take the guitar, too, so you can hear how it sounds."

"No," he said slowly, "you can hold on to the guitar."

"Oh, grow up! I know it reminds you of her but It just didn't work out. No need to let a perfectly good guitar go to waste. I can see how much you love playing it."

"Okay, I'll be right back." He left to put the guitar in his apartment upstairs. Something that reminded him of Mercedes was the last thing he needed staring at him first thing in the morning when, as has been happening for the last two weeks, he woke up in Patrice's bed.

* * *

><p>"Good morning sleepyhead!" Sam was up and making coffee at 5am when Patrice came out of the shower.<p>

"Well good morning to you! The produce market isn't all that interesting you know. You sure you want to go?"

"I remember. I used to go there with your grandmother. Then you showed up and she dropped me like a bad habit." Patrice laughed at that. "So anyway I haven't been in years. I'm calling it research. Maybe a critical plot point will be the difference between a turnip and a parsnip."

"Well that sounds fascinating." She said sarcastically.

"See! I've got my first fangirl."

"Fangirl?"

"Yes, that would be you. And you have your first fanboy."

"And that would be?"

"Guess!" He kissed her and handed her a cup of coffee. "Your stuff is awesome. The music is taken care of. I needed a love song and "For Adam" is perfect. I'm thinking of using it for the theme song. Can I use it?"

"Sure, if you need it. There's an Adam in your story?"

"Caleb, but I can make it fit. Is Adam a real person, if that's not being too nosey?"

"Kid from school. Artist of the depressed variety. My first boyfriend, my first...everything. He died."

"Accident?"

"If you want to call swallowing a month's supply of anti-depressants and washing it down with a bottle of whiskey an accident. He was mad at me, wanted me to drop out of school and move to Baltimore. I was a senior, he'd graduated the year before and got a full scholarship to art school, he was that good." She fidgeted in her seat. "It's easy to get between Baltimore and Washington, and cheap too. But he wanted me there all the time. Not that Baltimore's much different than DC, I wanted to stay at Ellington, my high school."

"That was a lot to ask."

"He didn't think so but he was used to getting his way. I was visiting, when he did it. His note said he wanted me to suffer for what I'd done. Or didn't do. Or wouldn't do. Adam was everything I'm not. Rich, white, connected. His family couldn't stand me before that, they thought I was a hood rat and Adam could do better, After they read the note? This is a depressing conversation." She picked up their coffee cups and rinsed them in the sink. "Getting anything you can use for your story? I know that's why you lurk around the diner, eavesdropping while pretending you're reading a book." She said it with a smile but Sam could tell she was upset.

"I wouldn't use something like that without your permission. We've got time before the market opens, if you just want to sit and talk awhile. You never talk about yourself, your life before you came here."

"You don't like to talk about homeless shelters, I don't like to talk about bouncing around in foster care. What's to say?"

"And about your mom?" He asked softly.

"Sam, I get that you want to be helpful and supportive, that's what I like the most about you, but that was years ago. I don't have trauma and nightmares, I really don't. People die. They get murdered, they commit suicide, they get old."

"But very few people have seen all three by the time they're 21."

"Produce market!" She wiped her hands on her jeans and changed the subject. "I'll buy you breakfast."

* * *

><p>"So you're dating Patrice again?" Kurt asked, rifling through the suits on the sample racks two days later. Now that Sam had some money it's time for him to own a decent suit and luckily Kurt's got friends with deep discounts.<p>

"Yes, for the last month or so." He shook his head at the suit Kurt was holding.

"Are you sure, sure you're not just marking time, waiting for Mercedes?" Kurt shrugged and went on to the next one in the stack.

"I'm not marking time, waiting around for Mercedes. That would be pretty unfair to Patrice. I don't have years to wait for a married woman to make up her mind. And Patrice and I are good together."

"You guys tried this before."

"We were younger then." Sam nodded at the suit Kurt was holding.

"It was only two years ago."

"You and Blaine broke up and got back together. It worked out."

"Yes, but..."

"And your breakup was much more dramatic, yelling, screaming, broken furniture, the world's slimiest gay guy plotting and scheming to pick up the pieces. Hell, you ended up in New Jersey sharing my place for God's sake. Kurt Hummel slept on the floor in a New Jersey studio over a diner."

"Don't remind me." Kurt shuddered at the memory. "Thankfully I had somewhere to go besides Ohio. And you're sure about this? Has something significantly changed between the two of you?"

"Yes, we like each other. This time we started with a friendship instead of just sexual attraction. This time I'm not pushing her to sign on til death do you part. This time she's more open about how she feels, we both are. We know each other's pasts." He patted Kurt's arm. "It's okay Kurt, it's going to be okay."

* * *

><p>"What happened to your hair?" Sam had never seen Patrice's hair straight like this, normally it was curly and natural.<p>

"Don't you like it?" She tossed her head a little. Straight her hair was longer than he would have guess it would be.

"Yes, but. I thought you didn't like to torture your hair. Isn't that what you called it, frying your hair?"

"Once a year won't kill it. It'll go back to normal next wash. It's not chemicals or anything. I wanted to look nice for the preview party with your high-class friends."

"You are the classiest person I know." Sam said with a kiss, running his fingers through her hair. "You know I'm a fan of the big ass 'fro, that's awesome, but straight 's pretty every now and then. You're be beautiful bald. Let's go."

"We're only going downstairs. Everybody's coming here, right?"

"Right, and we have to prep, I don't want you slaving away in the kitchen all night."

The viewing party Kurt was throwing for a few friends at his apartment had morphed into 30 people at the diner. Patrice was keeping the food trays filled while Sam was mingling, trying to mix his three groups of friends – friends from high school, work and the neighborhood. Patrice knew all of the neighborhood friend, a couple of the high school friends, and none of the work friends. Sam had introduced her to everyone but remembering names was not her thing. Of the high school friends she would only name Kurt, who helped her rebrand the restaurant, and Quinn, who'd she had seen with Sam a couple of times when she first moved here. The rest were a blur.

So Patrice concentrated on the food. Of course she'd been to parties and receptions but she'd never given one. In fact, she'd never had a party given for her. A friend in high school seemed shocked that Patrice had never had a birthday party. "Jehovah's Witnesses?" the girl had asked. Patrice had no idea what a Jehovah's Witness was but the girl had thrown it out there as if that was an explanation. Patrice just nodded and the girl didn't follow up. Patrice was sure her mother loved her, but Denise Greene had so many other things on her mind birthdays just couldn't command the mental effort it required to plan a birthday party.

Patrice was used to the cooking part, she was used to passing trays of snacks part, it was the mingling part she didn't like but here was was awkwardly shooting the breeze with someone who fell in the category of high school friend.

"So how long have you known Sam?" The short brunette asked her.

"A few years, ever since I came here." Patrice thought her name was Rachel.

"You're not from here? Neither and I. Made it all the way here from Ohio. How about you?"

"Washington, DC. My grandmother owned this place and Sam came with it. She left it to me, my empire!" She swept her arm around the place.

"Kurt said he designed it."

"Yes, we changed some things around when I took over. He's a good designer, he did it all on a really tight budget, as a favor to Sam."

"He's good at everything he does." She looked at Kurt and Blaine with an expression Patrice would have called love, longing, jealousy?

"Sam said you're an actor?"

"Yes," She focused on Patrice again. "Broadway. I have a show running right now – second female lead. Do you get into town much?"

"Not much, this takes all my time. Is it a singing role? Sam said your voice is beautiful."

"Sam was always the sweetest guy, even back then. Unfortunately it's not a singing role but I'm working on that. My new patron..." They were interrupted by a neighborhood friend, pointing out that the ravioli was running low.

"Excuse me, Rachel, but I need to take care of this."

"No problem." Rachel turned to started talking to some other people while Patrice retreated to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"You need any help back here?" Patrice looked up from the tomatoes she was slicing to see a smiling Asian man. "Tim, Tim DeCastro. Sam's friend from Ohio."<p>

"I keep forgetting he has so many friends from Ohio. I always think of him as being from Memphis. My grandmother was from Memphis, that's why she liked him. You know anything about commercial kitchens?"

"Too much. It's more coffee house than short-order but food's food. Remind me to steal your recipe for sweet potato ravioli. Awesome. We could sell the hell out of that." He went to the sink to wash up. Well-trained Patrice thought. "Sam says you're a musician?"

"Sam exaggerates. I run a diner."

"It's possible to do both." A light skinned black woman walked in, wrapped her arms around Tim's waist and kissed the back of his neck. "Not easy but possible. Alice if you didn't catch my name. Sam said you went to Ellington."

"Ellington?" Tim was impressed. "No shit! What do you play?"

"Strings." Patrice was slightly embarrassed, wondering what else Sam had said.

"As in? Damn, you don't play bass do you?"

"I can but mostly guitar, classical and jazz guitar."

"And she was good enough to get a full ride to Berklee." Alice added.

"Double damn! What was that like?"

"I never made it there. This. I had to come her and help my grandmother."

Alice and Tim thought for a minute. "You ever do live music here?" Alice asked. "You have room. What's your night business like?"

"Alice's folks own the place I mentioned. " Tim added by way of explanation. "Alice's Restaurant cause you can get anything you want."

"Excepting Alice. And it's a coffeehouse, not a restaurant and it's called McKenna's, not Alice's but if you're not particular about facts Tim's correct. Live music is great for a slow night. It brings people in and they eat and drink. That's where we play when we can't convince people to pay us."

"My grandmother hated music, my mother..." shit, why was she going into this with a couple of strangers? "My mother ran off with a musician and it broke my grandmother's heart."

"But it's your restaurant now." Alice said after a pause. "Do you realize what kind of talent is in the house right now? Do you have speakers here? Great, put this on." She pulled a CD from her purse. "That's why we're in town, playing at a jazz club in Manhattan for a week. Shameless self-promoter, aren't I? Sam and the rest of them were in this singing club in school, that's how we know them cause we were in the band. Believe me, Rachel won't say no if you ask her to sing. Getting her to shut up was the hard part so maybe you better scratch that idea. Kurt! You ever hear him sing? Sends shivers down your spine. And I'd really like to hear you play."

"If I can borrow Sam's guitar."

"Patrice!" Sam pulled her out of the kitchen. "It's show time!"

* * *

><p>"Thank god you changed the female lead's name from Porsche to Gloria. I told you it didn't have to be so obvious. I think everybody who was supposed to got it. The first time he called her Glory your Ohio friends all looked at me like 'Oh no he didn't!'." Patrice settled into a comfortable sleeping position, nestled against Sam's chest.<p>

"I didn't want you to feel bad."

"Mercy/Glory is way better than Mercedes/Porsche. I know Mercedes is who you had in mind when you started your script. I know you can't cut out and throw away what she meant to you. That's just not Sam Evans."

"I think a lot of women would have had a problem with that." He nuzzled her neck. "Thank god I have a beautiful girlfriend who just happened to have a notebook full of music just laying around. And can I just say, seeing you perform for an audience? You have to figure out a way to do that more often."

"Thanks. And you'd better not have some bitchy slut named Trixie in your story."

"Promise." He waited for her to say more. When she didn't he brought up the subject himself. "Alice said she asked you to sit in with them before they go back to Ohio. Gonna do it?" He felt her shrug.

"It's a Saturday. Gotta work."

"I can handle this place for one night." Sam gently rubbed her back. "Go. Have somebody tape it so I can see it later but go. You have to."

"But the diner!" She whined, but not like she really meant it.

"Why are you even here, Patrice? This was never your dream, music was. Hire a manager so you'll have time to do what you want. Get a partner or lease out the diner and come here once a month to perform. Alice is right, you can do both. Do it baby, for me?"

"Well, if it'll make you happy." He couldn't see her face but he could tell she was smiling.

* * *

><p>Next - B.B. King and baby daddy drama for Santana.<p> 


	6. Sinner's Prayer

_Well if I've been a bad boy, baby,I declare I'll change my ways.  
>I don't want bad luck and trouble to follow me all my days.<br>Please have mercy, Lord have mercy on me.  
>Well if I've done somebody wrong, Lord, have mercy if you please.<em>

_Sinner's Prayer - Ray Charles featuring B.B. King_

* * *

><p>It took Sebastian Smythe a while to notice the soap bubbles. He had spent the last 15 minutes staring intently at the inside of his eyelids, irritated. Today's cause for irritation was having to wait for somebody, his father in this case, to finish business with the wedding photographer. Andrew and Judy are ancient, why document that? This was Judy's 2nd wedding and Andrew's third. BFD. Sebastian sighed and started in on the other people on his list. That idiot who slammed on the brakes to save a damned squirrel. A squirrel! A fucking squirrel! She deserved to be rear-ended. Then the idiot cop who noticed the beer bottle on the the front seat. City full of crime and he's worried about a beer bottle. Fucking judge that suspended his license. Asshole. Assholes all. Now he's being carted around like a child. Sebastian had more than half a mind to just drive without a license and to hell with the consequences.<p>

He opened his eyes and saw the bubbles, hundreds of them, floating across the front of the car. An especially large bubble shimmered and glowed with an iridescent rainbow before exploding on the car window. Damn, somebody's going to have to wash this car. Somebody besides Sebastian. He looked in the direction the bubbles were coming from. They floated up from behind a white picket fence and just as he started to wonder about that she stood up, waving a tennis racket over her head, the source of the bubbles.

It was winter when he knew her. He remembered her long legs and her nice boobs. He remembered she was Latino, the first thing he'd ever said to her was an insult about her ethnic background. What he hadn't known was how dark she tanned. Wherever her people were from they turned bronze in the summer. The red tank top, white shorts and her golden brown skin hypnotized him.

She's laughing. The car windows are closed and the radio's on but he can tell she's laughing. She bends over, disappearing behind the fence, and stands up again, swinging a small black girl. She bends over, disappearing behind the fence, and stands up again, swinging a small white child. That must be Gabe, has to be, both of them with that jet black hair. He wishes he could get a good look at Gabe's face but they're spinning around too much for him to see clearly.

"All fall down!" He hears as he rolls down the the car window. The screen door slams and a tall man is standing on the porch.

"Joe! Come on out! We don't bite." she laughed. "At least most of us don't." She tickled Gabe and he laughed loudly. Then she disappeared again and the little girl started laughing.

"I just wanted to know if we're eating lunch inside or outside." Joe asked.

"Outside!" he heard the children say.

"There you go!" Santana laughed again. "Let's wash our hands and go out back." She walked up the front steps, a child in each hand.

"Sebastian!" His father knocked on the car window, waking him from a daydream. "You wanted me to drop you off somewhere?"

**flashback – 4 years earlier**

Santana Lopez sat in the reception hall, furious. She couldn't believe this had happened to her. She's the winner, the one who always comes out on top. Britt's, well, she's Britt. She's the one who's easily misled, the one who always forgives. There's no such thing as 'going too far' when it comes to Britt. Or there wasn't until the day Santana went too far. The night Santana came home to an empty apartment and a note on the dining room table. "Your perfectly innocent study-buddy left this in our bed. Goodbye Santana. I love you but I can't live with you like this." Santana looked at the good hoop earring and waited for Britt to come back. She always came back. Except this time. Santana tossed back another rum and coke and watched Blaine and Kurt's first dance as a married couple.

Sebastian looked around the reception hall. He should leave, nobody wanted him to show up at Kurt and Blaine's wedding. That's the sole reason he's here, where he knows he's not wanted, because it's making half the people here uncomfortable which is something Sebastian enjoys. During the ceremony everybody looked at him as if he were about to do some douchebag thing. Like he was gong to stand up and object or something. Hell no, he was just here representing his father, the DA, at the wedding of the local congressman's son. Nothing more, nothing less. It's politics, nothing personal.

He looked around the room while the couples who had sworn to love each other for all eternity avoided each other. The black woman left early into the reception. Something about football playoffs. Sebastian hadn't really noticed her, but he was checking out a well-built blonde guy and couldn't avoid noticing how the blonde stared at the short black woman like she was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. When she left the blonde proceeded to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. Sebastian was just about to move in for the kill when the Broadway queen and the soap opera queen pried him away from the bar. An Asian couple was fighting, quietly, in the corner. A pretty blonde was riding around on the lap of a guy in the wheelchair. That Mexican woman was staring at wheelchair guy and drinking. Since she was alone he sat down next to her.

"I hate weddings." Sebastian said. "Who the hell wants to do that? Same old same old every single night? Idiots."

"Maybe they're in love, ever think of that?" She didn't move her eyes off the wheelchair.

"Love is for idiots."

"Idiots." She downed her drink. "You oughta know."

"How are things down at the taco stand?"

"I wouldn't know. How are things in the mayonnaise factory? Solve that white break shortage yet?"

He looked her up and down and smiled. "You're sexy when you're being a bitch."

"Aww. You are about the third prettiest gay guy here. No wait, there's Wade! Fourth."

"Except I'm not gay."

"Sure you aren't. If you're not gay your ranking goes way down."

"You want proof? That is unless you want to make love to Mr. Rum and Coke all night."

"Thanks for the offer but my expectations are kinda high." She looked him up and down. "I've got no interest in teaching a gay boy."

He leaned over, she thought to whisper in her ear. Instead he delicately stroked her earlobe with this tongue, before gripping it with his teeth, stopping just his side of pain. Then he blew in her ear. He quite pointedly stared at her crotch. "A happy partner makes for a happy night, don't you think?"

Okay she thought, so maybe Sebastian did have some skills a girl might be interested in.

* * *

><p>"Damn it Santana, you're killing me!" Sebastian panted.<p>

"That's what happens when you upgrade to women." She laughed at him. "Face it, guys are lazy."

"Oh we are, are we?" He snickered.

"You're not?" God, she had a sexy laugh. "Prove it!"

"Again?"

"Yes, again! I told you my expectations are high."

* * *

><p><strong>about a year later<strong>

Mercedes struggled with the front door of McKenna's coffeehouse. She'd never noticed it before, but traveling with Marti in the stroller made her notice these things. She was irritated and this was Artie's life, dealing with heavy doors all the time. Luckily there already is a ramp here or she, as the new partner, would pay to install one. She was juggling the door and the stroller when Joe came over.

"Good morning, Mercedes."

"Hey, Joe. How's business this morning?"

"Ahhh, I had to comp somebody. That woman there" he pointed to a far table. "I don't think she has any money. She ordered something cheap and I felt sorry for her and gave her a free sandwich. Do you think Alice will get mad?"

"No, Alice and Tim feed people all the time, that's probably how she knew to come here. That's Lima's worst kept secret. You won't get in trouble for that." She looked at the woman. "What did she say?"

"She didn't want to take it. I told her she won a prize, 100th customer."

"Joe, I thought you didn't lie." She gently teased him.

"I didn't say 100th customer since when. So technically..."

Mercedes smiled at their new employee. "Can you please make two smoothies, one strawberry and one mango? And can Marti sleep behind the counter for a minute? Just yell if she wakes up." Mercedes picked up the smoothies and headed towards the woman with the tangled black hair.

"Here's the second part of your prize." She slid the smoothies across the table. "Strawberry or mango, your pick." The dark-eyed woman looked up. "Santana! What happened?" She pulled the girl into her strong arms. "What happened baby? Don't cry! It's going to be okay. Are you okay?" Santana Lopez, the strongest woman Mercedes knew, was bawling like an infant. "Shhhhh! Just shhh!" She helped Santana to her feet. Damn, either Santana had gained a ton of weight or...

Joe was looking at them, intensely interested, ready to spring to Mercedes' defense if required. "It's okay, Joe. I know her. Please call Alice, no Tim. He's better in a crisis. Can you please get hold of Tim and send him back? Thanks. Come on baby, we're going to the office."

* * *

><p>Santana lay on the sofa in the office, apparently all cried out while Mercedes talked softly with Tim. "Artie's out of town, can you watch Marti for a bit til we get back from the doctor? I can't get a straight story out of her but she hasn't seen a doctor lately. Looks like she's going to drop that baby any minute."<p>

"Sure. Any idea where she's been all this time?"

"Not a clue, and no, I don't know who the father is. She just showed up out of the blue. Her parents won't let her stay there, that's all I know. I've got room if I can get her to stay." She addressed the woman again. "Santana, can I borrow your car keys?" Santana nodded and shoved her purse across the floor. "Tim, can you drive her car over to my house? We're off to the doctor as soon as you get back."

"I can't afford this." Santana said, looking around the doctor's office.

"Don't worry, I can."

"I don't want your money."

"Fine, we'll see if there's a program you qualify for. I'm assuming you don't have a job and the baby's father isn't helping out."

Santana nodded. "What a fuck-up. This whole stupid mess. It's all Britt's fault."

"Britt's the father?"

"No. If Britt hadn't left me none of this would have happened."

"Okay." Mercedes knew that was a lie, it was Santana's fault Britt left her, a miracle Britt put up with as much as she had, but she let it slide. Since Santana was talking now Mercedes took the opportunity to pump her for information. "You have any idea of your due date?"

"Couple of weeks. That's what the clinic back home said."

"Back home being..."

"Louisville. I stayed there after college. I taught at a Christian school, can you imagine? They didn't think much of my situation. And they call themselves Christians!"

"How long ago was that?"

"Couple of months. I stayed down there until I ran out of money. Then I came here. And they call themselves family!"

"It's okay, you're with family now. How long have you been in town?"

"Couple of days."

"Should I ask where you've been staying? No, I don't want to know. Will you stay at my house?" Santana hesitated. "I need the help. You can help me with Marti and I'll help you with junior here. Please?" She rambled on, not giving Santana a chance to say no. "It'll be just like _Imitation of Life_, without the pancakes. And we need help with coffeehouse."

"Who's we?"

"Me, Alice, Tim. We're partners. I help down there but Marti's only 6 months old. See, that's where you'll be a big help. They go on tour sometimes and I need to cover for them. Please! At least for a little while. You need practice, I bet you don't know shit about babies."

"Maybe I'll give it away." The way she wrapped her arm abound her belly Mercedes doubted it.

"Maybe. You don't have to make up your mind today. And the father, he'd have to sign to make the adoption legal."

"He doesn't give a shit."

"You sure about that?"

"He gave me ten thousand dollars and told me to "take care of it". That's what he said. Take care of it. He didn't even call to ask how I was, how I felt, after taking care of it."

Mercedes said nothing. Shane, God rest his soul, wasn't that big an ass. Or maybe people seem nicer once they're dead. Anyway, Santana or not, Mercedes was keeping this baby. Only way Marti was getting a brother or sister, the way things were going. "Is he mad at you or just a general douche?"

"Just a general douche. It was nothing personal. From beginning to end it was nothing personal."

"So, we'll get him to sign away his rights. Get rid of him once and for all. If he tries to squeeze some bucks off you..."

"No, he's got money. He'd pay to make this go away."

* * *

><p>Santana dragged herself out of bed. Lately she was feeling like a milk cow. Since nothing had gone as she planned it no wonder formula and bottles also fell by the side of the road. Breastfeeding seemed so odd to her at first. Primitive and something done by poverty stricken third world women but Mercedes was a big fan. And there can't be a cheaper, easier way to feed a baby once you get the hang of it. She just picks him up and 30 seconds later Gabe's eating. No making formula, no getting up to heat bottles, nothing to clean up. Just her and Gabe.<p>

At first she wasn't sure she could keep him, wanted to keep him. Looking at him reminded her of all her mistakes. Screwing around with women, and the occasional man, she didn't care about when she knew Britt loved her. All those booty calls with Sebastian when neither one of them loved, or even much liked, each other. Her job, her family. She saw all of that the first time she looked at Gabe. When she opened her eyes to look again at the bundle Mercedes was holding she noticed his hair – did all babies have that much hair? It was dark and thick and so much hair.

"He's got a lot of hair!" Mercedes said. "Marti was bald." Mercedes held him close to her face. She loved that new baby smell! "I know you're still deciding but do you want to hold him? Even if you're going to be Aunty Tany you'll have to hold him one day."

"Not yet." Santana looked away.

"Okay, I understand." Mercedes rocked the baby, cooing softly.

"Does he like that?" Santana asked.

"Yes, most babies do." She continued humming and rocking.

"If you keep him, how does that work?" Santana asked. "Who am I exactly? Would I be a family friend, his aunt, would he know I'm his mother?"

"What's your life going to be like? Are you staying in Lima? It can't be like what Shelby did to Quinn. I liked Shelby but that was all kinds of wrong. Beth was too young to know the difference and Puck and Beth worked out a relationship but I don't want that. You're his parent or you're not, you can't be his mom only when it's convenient for you."

"Do you think I'm selfish?"

"You know I don't. I want you to stay here and raise your baby. I'll help you, you know that. You can do it, you can do anything you set your mind to. It's just, I know people who had drive-by parents. Parents who show up, disrupt everything and disappear again, leaving the other parent to put the kid back together again. He deserves better than that, don't you baby boy?"

"If you kept him, what would you name him?"

"I don't know." She stared at his surprisingly light colored eyes. Must be his dad's eyes. "Jack."

"Jack?" She scoffed. "Jack Jones? Not a lot of imagination there."

"Okay Ms. Smarty-pants, what's the name would you pick?"

"Gabriel, a messenger of glad tidings." Mercedes moved closer to her and Santana shrugged. "It was a Christian school. I learned a couple of things."

"Gabriel, that's a really good name. Gabriel Jones. Sounds like a Jazz man, trumpet player don't you think?"

Santana held out her arms. "It's Gabriel Lopez. Gabriel Brandon MacKenzie Lopez."

"Well that's a mouthful!" She placed the baby in Santana's arms.

"That's from the mother of Martha Shanice Tinsley Jones. So show me how this breastfeeding thing works."

And that's how it's was, Santana, Gabe, Marti, Mercedes and Artie, when Tina lets him get away. Mercedes, who can be pushy when she wants to, only pushed on one thing, getting any paternity issues off the table. She never asked about the father but willingly paid the lawyer who worked out the details. Santana got a trust fund, medical and college expenses. She wanted child support but the lawyer argued for the money up front in a trust fund, child support can be a never-ending argument. Sebastian signed away everything, custody, visitation, everything. They didn't even speak to each other during the negotiations. It was nothing personal, just another mistake Sebastian was paying to make go away.

Which is why, four years later, Santana was shocked to be holding a letter from Sebastian Smythe

* * *

><p>Note: Santana choose the name Brandon for Britt and MacKenzie for Mercedes. And yes, Marti's real name is Martha Jones (as in Dr. Who). Imitation of Life is movie from the 1930's that had two single mothers sharing a house and helping each other and it will make you hungry for pancakes.<p>

You'll have to wait a chapter to see what Sebastian is up to because next up is - Diana Krall!


	7. You Don't Know Me

_And anyone can tell  
>You think you know me well<br>But you don't know me.  
>No. You don't know me<em>

_You Don't Know Me – Ray Charles featuring Diana Krall_

Note: I'm jumping around in time but this story happens just before Quinn's mother's wedding in the first chapter._  
><em>

* * *

><p>Sam opened the medicine cabinet and inventoried the contents. He was doing what his mother would call 'snooping'. Mercedes would call it 'minding other folks business'. Patrice calls it "sticking your nose where it don't belong'. Blaine would call it 'doing research' and he preferred to look at it Blaine's way. Blaine's been carrying around a book in his head for 10 years now so he's impressed that Sam actually wrote something down, managed to make a living as a writer it for the last few years. The way Blaine looks at it, one day Sam may need to write about a New York penthouse apartment so he might as well collect details for future reference.<p>

What Sam is interested in right now is how Rachel Berry can possibly afford this place. Yes, she's appearing on Broadway but still! Quinn's job is less prestigious but steadier and she can't afford all this. What Sam expected to see was Viagra or something, considering how old Rachel's patron is. Patron, that's a nice way to say it. Course in a way Quinn was his patron, all the places he's gone as her plus one, and he wasn't not getting laid so maybe it's on the up and up. Anyway, nothing interesting in the medicine cabinet. There's no cabinet under the sink so he can't look there. He opened the door to leave and hey! That's not the hall he came in through. He looked at the bathroom again, there's two doors, the one he came in through from the hallway and this one, that leads to a bedroom or something. He started to leave wen he heard a voice, Quinn's. Aha! He'd often wondered if Quinn had a married lover or something. Their relationship was strictly platonic and Quinn often disappeared for days at a time and was mysterious, more mysterious than usual, when she came back.

"Oh baby, I missed you so much." Aha! Sloppy kissing noises. "I know, I know. It's just those asses I work with. You'd think it was 1945 the way they act." Kissing and giggling. "Somebody could walk in!" The sound of a dress being unzipped and more giggling. Somebody pounding on the bathroom door.

"In a minute!" Sam yelled, forgetting he was spying. He quickly shut the door but not before a head peeked around the corner. The brunette head of Rachel Berry. Double aha!

* * *

><p>Sam took his time getting back to the housewarming party. Quinn made a bee-line for him the minute he crossed the threshold and latched onto his arm. There's a name for this, what is it? He made a mental note to look it up later. Quinn was handing him a drink and laughing but what was in her eyes? Fear. He smiled at her and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry."<p>

Jesus, did she think he was the kind of guy to run off and call a press conference? Well, he was the kind of guy who snooped through medicine cabinets, who'd been casing the joint like a cat burglar, who eavesdropped on an obviously private conversation. Yes, maybe she had reason to think that.

"Kurt and Blaine invited us over after the party." Quinn said. "It's just three blocks away – how convenient is that? It will be just like told times."

* * *

><p>"So what's the deal Quinn?" Sam took her arm as they walked the three blocks to Kurt's. "Why all the sneaking around? Rachel's patron gonna kick her to the curb if he finds out?"<p>

"No, Rachel's not sleeping with him. He wants to take credit for molding her into a star. He's looking for the right vehicle for her. That's legit. It's me."

"You?"

"My job." She sighed. "It's very conservative there."

"But there must be plenty of gay actors, it's show business! And what about Blaine, he gets plenty of work and Kurt's no secret."

"Gay males. Somehow you can be an openly gay male and it doesn't hurt your career. Women, unless you're playing one of the few lesbian characters, have to be perceived as straight. I thought you knew that. And Blaine doesn't scream gay, he can play straight roles. Kurt can't. Shit, we all knew that back during West Side Story. That's why Kurt teaches and does voice-overs, his look is what directors call distracting. Unless he's auditioning for a part written for a gay male that is. I can't afford to be put in a niche."

"So how does that feel, to see her and not be able to be with her?"

"Collecting material?" Quinn laughed.

"No. I'm serious. How does that make you feel?"

"How do you feel about Mercedes? It was unfortunate about Shane but now there's nothing keeping you apart."

"I'm dating Patrice, did you forget about that?"

"No, I didn't. What's the deal there?"

"What do you mean, what's the deal?"

"Simple question. What's the deal?"

"She's my partner, she does all the music for the show. I wouldn't have gotten so far without her help. She's a musical genius."

Quinn nodded. "True. Anything else?"

What the hell was Quinn asking? "And I love her." he answered.

"Took you long enough to say it. You love her, fine. You don't look at her the way you used to look at Mercedes."

"I was a child then."

"Oh, a child. Listen," she stood on the curb, even though the light had just changed. "Why don't we just cancel Kurt and Blaine? They just wanted to make sure you didn't blurt out about Rachel and me. I wasn't worried but that's all they wanted. I'm going home."

Sam escorted her back to her apartment, on the third floor of the building Rachel had the penthouse in, and took the train to New Jersey.

* * *

><p>With slow, heavy strokes Sam massaged Patrice's back, from the small dip just above her hips, along her backbone, around her shoulder blades. He heard the gentle escape of air as pushed down on her shoulders. Ever since she cut back on the diner's hours and added a Friday night coffeehouse Patrice has been in a better mood than he's ever seen her. Relaxed and happy, truly happy. Would what he had to ask her make her even happier? He'd have to wait until tomorrow, he could tell she'd fallen asleep.<p>

"Sam, why now?" Patrice handed him a cup of coffee the next morning in the diner.

"Why not now?" He ignored the coffee. "I love you, you love me. Married is what people do in this situation. You do love me, don't you?"

"Of course I love you. I wouldn't be sleeping with you if I didn't love you." She sat down, her brown eyes locked on his green ones. "Married is not what I do. You know that. We've been over this before."

"You say that, but you'd be a great wife. You're honest, loving and trustworthy. Just because your parents didn't work out..."

She interrupted. "Speaking of parents, when was the last time you visited yours?"

"You throwing me out?"

"Of course not. When I throw you out you'll know it. You've got money now so why don't you go home for a few days, think this over? I'm not getting married and you might as well get used to the idea. If getting married is so important to you you're dating the wrong woman."

* * *

><p>"Hey Kurt." Kurt opened his door to the young black woman.<p>

"Patrice! Sam said you were coming over. I'm supposed to talk some sense into you."

"Talk away!" She looked around in curiosity. She'd never been to Kurt's apartment and somehow thought it would be feminine but it wasn't. It was almost aggressively masculine, all dark wood and leather. The only splash of color was a huge landscape, a harbor, hanging over the fireplace. Patrice was drawn to it.

"Isn't it great! Grand Marais, Minnesota. My mom was from there. We went there, Blaine and I, right before I left Lima. Sam painted that from a photograph. A wedding present."

"It's beautiful. Maybe if we both nag him he'll pick up a paintbrush again." She turned away from the painting. "Anyway..."

"Have a seat." Kurt pointed to the leather sofa. It was expensive and soft like butter. "Sam said I could answer any question, I shouldn't worry about gossiping about him."

"Okay, let's get straight to the point then. I can't even consider marrying Sam without knowing exactly what's going on with him and Mercedes."

"There's nothing going on with them." Kurt sat down on the window seat overlooking the maple trees outside the third floor apartment.

"Okay, well what went on with them? She's like, I don't know, Voldemort. I don't think she does it on purpose but he can't get rid of her, mentally."

"This is the second time Sam asked you to marry him, correct? What about the first time, was it Mercedes then?"

"No, I hadn't heard of her then. It was right after he got back from your wedding. He had to get married, right away. We'd only been dating for a couple of months, I thought it was all a bit much. He," she thought for a few minutes "you know how laid-back he is. Well, he was crazy, pushing and pushing to get married. I hated that. I had a pushy boyfriend once and no. Just no."

"Why did you start dating again?"

"On his part, he was probably mad at Mercedes. I see that now. And maybe he thought getting over her was a matter of will-power, something he could force himself to do if he tried hard enough. On my part, I love Sam, I really do. If I could marry anybody it would be him, but I can't stand being pressured." She sat down next to Kurt. "I won't put up with that."

"What do you mean, if you could marry somebody?"

"Marriage doesn't run in my family. True, my grandparents were married forever. But my mother, their only child, grew up in the diner and couldn't wait to get out. She was 16, my dad was a 21 year old bus boy. Well you can guess what happened next. He ran off the minute he heard the news. She followed him and they got married. He was gone again by the time I was born. See, that's how marriages in my family work out. She didn't come home because my grandparents gave her the 'if you walk out that door' speech. See, that how parenting works in my family."

"Then what happened? Sam said you didn't know your family. That you were 18 when you met your grandmother."

"My dad, he had a lot of bad habits that weren't conducive to a long life." She stared out the window and spoke in a flat tone, as if this was somebody else's life story. "Then when I was twelve my mom had an accident. Now I'm an orphan and I went into foster care. I'm a pretty good guitarist and this reporter was doing one of those human interest stories. You know, kid from a bad background who turned out okay. He tracked down my grandmother, my grandfather had died by then, arranged the tearful reunion. I didn't have any other family so why not come here? Anyway, that's all I know about love and marriage."

"Patrice," he clasped her hands in his "you and Sam aren't going to end up like that. You're both stable people."

"Maybe. My family history is probably not important. But what is important is Mercedes. Suppose we did get married and she turned up again? You started to tell me about them."

"Well," He leaned back and closed his eyes, watching the whole thing replay in his mind. "They started dating at the end of junior year. It was a big secret and I didn't understand why. Mercedes was heavier back then and I think she thought Sam was embarrassed to be seen with her. His previous girlfriends had been cheerleaders. I think she didn't think they were going to be together long and she'd look like a fool, deluding herself that Sam was really interested in her. Sam, he was suddenly poor, really poor and none of the rest of us were. I think at first he thought Mercedes saw him as a charity project, that it was pity on her part. She's like that, always looking out for everybody except herself. And I think it made him uncomfortable, that he couldn't afford to take her anywhere. If she offered to pay that just made him mad, angry because the boy's 'supposed' to pay. So they pretty much hung out at a lake near town. Then, when he had to leave it was very sudden. He wanted to ask her to wait for him, but he didn't because he was afraid she'd say no. He kept saying he wanted to start over in the new place, clean slate, but I think he was just afraid to hear no. When he didn't ask her to wait, she figured he didn't give a damn and never had. That she was just a convenient temporary girlfriend for homeless Sam."

"Then Shane showed up. There's a thin line between supportive and suffocating and she and I disagreed about where Shane fell on that scale but she loved the guy. Or she thought she did until Sam suddenly showed up again. He realized, about six months too late, that Mercedes would have gladly waited for him. But instead of waiting for Shane to wear out his welcome, which he was on his way to doing, talk about a guy who kept popping up like Voldemort, Sam panicked and put the pressure on her big time. You obviously know what I'm talking about, how he can be. Then Mercedes slipped and kissed Sam when she was technically Shane's girlfriend. If you knew her you'd know she feels responsible for everything. Earthquake in Haiti and she feels like she could have done something. So now she's racked with guilt, and it was just one measly kiss, not a full-blown make-out session, and Sam's being oddly self-righteous."

"I tried to warn him but he wanted Mercedes to come begging. Miscalculation on his part because she has as much stubborn pride as he does. She figured Sam just didn't care. So while Sam's making a point of not talking to her Shane's talking to her every chance he got. Did I mention she couldn't turn a corner without tripping over the guy? I didn't particularly care for Shane but I think he truly loved her, at least in the beginning. He did what a man in love does. He lavished attention on her, made a big deal of forgiving her for kissing Sam, how that showed how much he truly loved her. Remember, Sam's still sulking, so it's Shane for the win. By the time Sam noticed it was too late. Again."

"The money thing." Patrice asked "Do you think that made the difference, would they have dated if Sam hadn't been homeless?"

Kurt thought for a while. "I never considered that. Maybe not. Sam was a different person, he'd never been poor before that. I think it was a big shock, all the things he couldn't do anymore. All he did was work and go to the lake with her. Even at the lake usually his brother and sister went with them. She volunteered to babysit for him, that's why they started seeing so much of each other. She wouldn't have done that if he wasn't working. He was working because he was poor. But on the other hand, they were in Glee club together and she is cute. Maybe it was just a matter of time. The money is the reason we're so close. He's closer to me than my own brother, step-brother, and that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been living in my house because of the money issue."

"Why they got together is irrelevant anyway. But it's been what, four years since Shane died. What's stopping them now?"

"You. Sam wouldn't cheat on you, no matter how much he wanted her."

"So why not break up, why get married all of a sudden?"

"We have friends that can't get married. They're gay and can't come out, for career reasons. Maybe, somehow that prompted him. Maybe it's Quinn's mother's wedding in a couple of months that's got him thinking marriage. God knows Quinn can't shut up about it."

"Thanks for the background, Kurt." She stood up to leave. "If Sam wants to get married he's dating the wrong woman. I'm sure of that now. I'm not the marrying kind."

* * *

><p>Next up – Van Morrison<p> 


	8. Crazy Love

_She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down  
>And when I come to her when the sun goes down<br>Take away my trouble, take away my grief  
>Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief<br>She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love  
>She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love<em>

_Crazy Love – Ray Charles featuring Van Morrison_

* * *

><p>Santana stood in the dim restaurant, waiting for her eyes to adjust from the sunlight. She'd come her once before with Sebastian. Once they had tried to have lunch, have a conversation over lunch. It hadn't worked. Their relationship wasn't about conversation. It was about sex, as much as possible. When they were both satisfied, and they made a point of both being satisfied, conversation consisted of one of them saying "Look at the time, I gotta go. Call you the next time I'm in town."<p>

Finally her eyes adjusted and she saw him standing up at a table for two, waiting for her. She walked over and placed the small box she carried on the table, ignoring the chair he held out for her.

"Thank you." He looked at the box. "Can you stay for a minute? Please?"

She sat down and said nothing.

"Thank you." He repeated. He opened the box and pulled out a framed picture of Gabe. He was laughing at the camera. Mercedes took this picture last week just for this. Sebastian stared at the picture. Then he looked up at Santana. "He looks just like you."

"Your eyes." She replied.

"Yes. My eyes." He put the picture back in the box. "We both know legally you didn't have to do this. Thank you."

Santana smiled and sipped the coffee that had magically appeared in front of her. "You're welcome. There's something else in the box."

Sebastian pulled out a pocket sized hardbound book. More pictures of Gabe, from a newborn to now. He flipped through it slowly before slipping it into his suit pocket. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Again."

"I wanted to talk to you. We never really talked did we? Well, I wanted to tell you I'm leaving the country, going to France." He noticed her wary expression. "Don't worry, I'm not about to launch an international custody fight. I just wanted to tell you that. And give you this." He handed her an envelope containing a check.

"I don't know what he likes, but I missed all his birthdays. Buy him something nice. And the other thing in the envelope." She pulled out a framed picture, Sebastian and a brown-hair girl on a sailboat, both smiling at the camera. Santana stared at the picture, thinking that she'd never seen Sebastian look as happy and relaxed as he did in this picture.

"Who is she?"

"My sister, Savannah. I thought, if he asks about me one day, you could show him that. His dad and his aunt."

"Thank you. I will." She put the envelope in her purse. "What's in France?"

"That's where Savannah lives. She just had twins and I'm relocating to be closer. I got an assignment over there." Santana looked surprised. "Hey! I have a job! I'm a civil engineer and all that French they pounded in my head at Dalton paid off so I got a position in Paris. We used to be very close, Savannah and I. She's looking forward to having me over there."

"Congratulations. If you like I could send you the occasional picture."

"Thank you. I'd like that very much. I'd like it if we kept in touch, so Gabe could find me if he ever wanted to. When he's much older and you decide it's okay."

"Yes. We can do that. Would you like to meet Gabe before you leave?" Sebastian shook his head sadly. "I could introduce you as an old friend." Santana added.

"No. I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Just give him a kiss for me. Every once in a while, give him a extra kiss. From me. Goodbye Santana."

* * *

><p>Santana stood in front of the dorm room door. There were two record album covers pinned to the door. One was a curly red-haired girl "Annie". The other was two women, Ann and Nancy Wilson on the cover of Heart's debut album, "Dreamboat Annie" only one n was photo-shopped into a g. Dreamboat Angie. Santana knocked.<p>

"Who is it?" a voice called out.

"Santana!"

"Santana who?"

"Santana who's going to kick your ass!"

"Annie, do you know a Santana that is capable of kicking my ass?"

"Not on her best day!" The door was opened by a shorter, younger version of Santana. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite prodigal sister?"

"Your only sister." Santana wrapped her arms around the girl. "My little Angel."

"Happy birthday, Satan!" She grabbed a package from her desk. "I got you a present, the best kind a poor college girl can give!"

Santana unwrapped a picture of the three of them, Santana, Angela and Gabe, riding a carousel. Santana remembered that day, it was Angela's birthday and she sneaked over to see Santana. Angela is the only member of her family she's on speaking terms with since she's been back in Lima. In fact, she was barely on speaking terms with her family before she left.

"Cute little boy. And the older girl, she's all that. The other one? I'm not sure." She hugged Angela again. "I love it! Just for that I'm not going to whine too much when you try to hide stuff in the bottom of the shopping cart." She turned to Angela's roommate Annie. "We're going to Target. Wanna come along?"

"No thanks, I have a test to study for. Coming to see me dance tonight?

"Of course, Angela spent all her money on tickets."

"Yeah." Annie mumbled. "She spent all of her money on those free tickets. Keep telling yourself that."

The Lopez sisters left, arms linked.

* * *

><p>"Damn that's bright!" Mercedes said to herself out loud. She stepped back and looked at the wall color again. She looked at the paintbrush in her hand. If she ran out and got a different shade of purple would Marti notice? Yes, she'd notice. She'd be surprised at first that Mercedes had painted the room the color she'd been whining about for the last two months but she knows the color. "It's just paint." Mercedes said. "Look at me, talking to myself. Let me at least put on some music." She ran downstairs to turn on the stereo. She was going back upstairs when she glanced out the front window and stopped in shock. Sam Evans was standing there, his hand on her front gate, trying to make up his mind.<p>

"Sam!" She was standing on the front porch, wearing shorts and a paint splattered t-shirt, her hair loosely pulled back in a baseball cap, a smear of purple paint on her cheek. Sam thought she looked magnificent. She ran down to the gate. "Well, you're the last person I expected to see walking down the street in Lima! What are you doing in town?"

"Kurt had to come, something about garage business with Finn. Blaine was supposed to come but a job came up. Kurt already had the ticket, I had the time. So here I am." He was still standing on the street side of the gate. "I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No, where are my manners? Come in, come in." She stepped back so Sam could enter. "I just finished painting Marti's room. Can you take a look? I think it's an obnoxious color." She was nervous, babbling.

"Is this the color?" He stroked her cheek. She blushed deep red, and that took some doing on her part. "Sorry." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's a nice color. You always liked purple."

"Well, that's why I can't complain too much. Maybe we'll put a lot of posters on the wall or something, mask the purple so I don't go blind when I walk in there." She opened the front door and Sam looked around the living room that once was so familiar to him. It hadn't changed much, it still hard that warm, welcoming feel. But you could tell young children lived here now, toys were stacked neatly in baskets under the coffee table, crayons and coloring book were on the coffee table. "Did you eat lunch yet?" She asked.

"Yes, thank you. So how are you?"

"In the three months since I saw you last? Fine, we're all just fine. Patrice? You're dating her right?"

"Not anymore. She thinks I'm in love with somebody else." Mercedes cocked her head to one side. "Not Quinn." he added.

"I know it's not Quinn." She laughed, half to herself. "Why did God give men eyes if they're not going to use them?"

"The better to see you with!" And suddenly the years melted away.

"Oh, so you're the big bad wolf?"

"Maybe. But first, you're not dating anybody are you?"

"Not a soul. I tried and it didn't take."

"So." He bounced on the balls of his feet. "So, can I see the room you're painting?"

"What? Sure. Come on up. It's my old room."

Sam remembered her parent's bedroom was right across the hall. Was that her room now? Where were the other people who lived with her?

"I like the color. I mean, for a little girl it's good. I bet your room is more mature."

"So you're a dog, not a wolf!" but she laughed anyway. "You can take a look." She opened the door.

He looked around, the room was classy and tasteful. The bed look inviting. "Where is everybody?"

"Marti is sleeping over with her grandma – Shane's mom. Gabe's sleeping over at Joe's, he's got a brother that's Gabe's age and they're play together. Santana went to Columbus to visit her sister Angela down at Ohio State."

"Joe doesn't live here? I thought he was Santana's boyfriend."

"No, he doesn't live here. He lives with his parents. He's in Philadelphia or something, visiting relatives. Joe's... I'd guess you'd call him the official male role model around here. He's number two out of 8 boys which is why he's so good with kids. The only babysitter they don't run all over. Well, Artie keeps them in line but he's busy with his job and family. Joe's still keeping to his vow of celibacy and Santana, even though she's slowed down in her old age, celibacy's a deal breaker for her. She wants to sample before she commits."

"How about you? Interested in a sample?"

"Sam!" She blushed again. "You just walked in the door 5 minutes ago."

"I'm sorry. Really sorry." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm just remembering the big plans we had."

She sat down next to him. "Fourth of July."

"Fourth of July. We were going to make our own fireworks. Your folks were going to be at a conference. I was going to make everything perfect and fantastic for your first time." He reached for her hand. "Instead you cried. We had to rush because my family was coming back any minute and you cried the whole time, the one chance we had, in that stupid motel room. You cried and ran out because you didn't want anybody to ask you why you were crying. I couldn't drive you home or talk to your or anything. We never thought we'd see each other again and we'd always have that one thing and you cried the whole time."

"I wanted your's to be the face I saw when I thought about my first time. It is." She stood up. "But maybe we should go downstairs."

Sam stayed on the bed and waited, hoped for an offer. When Mercedes didn't move he sighed and stood up. "Okay. Let's go downstairs."

"Thank you." She took his hand but instead of heading for the hallway she walked toward the master bathroom. Way back when, her parents remodelled the bathroom into a spa-like retreat. This bathroom, and in particular the steam shower, had been a primary feature of their Fourth of July plans. Mercedes stopped at the bathroom door. "I need to wash off this paint. Can you help me?"

"Are you sure?"

This kiss she gave him showed she had no doubt. "Back then we thought we had time, that time was the only thing we had. Then all of a sudden there was no time. That day, you kept asking me if I was sure, if I wanted to go ahead since you were leaving. If I wanted to wait until I had a real boyfriend, somebody who'd be there for me. I was sure then and I'm sure now."

* * *

><p>Annie, Angela's roommate, was one hell of a dancer Santana thought. Actually the whole dance department was kicking ass. They did pieces in different styles, ballet, jazz, swing, hip-hop – all of them perfectly performed. Angela rambled on about the new dance teacher, not that she would know because she's a biology major, but Annie loved this teacher. According to Angela, the new teacher is tough but fair and nice, really nice. In fact, the teacher let the class put together the last piece, the one they're doing now because they worked so hard on the first pieces. All the girls are wearing black wigs and Cleopatra headdresses, dancing to "Walk Like an Egyptian". Santana and Angela danced along with the rest of the audience.<p>

Later, at the reception Santana watched Angela with her friends, a mob of boys and girls laughing and grabbing each other. Nobody special my ass, Santana thought. Her math tutor bears watching, she's seen that look from a guy before and he's especially handsy to Miss Angela. She was just about to wander over and let the guy know the Lopez women weren't for casual screwing around with when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

"Hey San!" A warm kiss was planted on her neck. "Miss me?"

The new dance teacher pulled off her black wing. "Britt! What are you doing here?"

"I teach here. When Angela showed up to watch Annie's rehearsal I thought, fate! Angela tells me you're all grown up now. Way mature! And that you're single. I'm single!" She kissed Santana again. "Wanna mingle?"

"After all this time? After what I did?"

"It was a long time ago and you were so young. Kinda flaky if we're being honest. Well I'm older too. Wanna mingle?"

"Wait a minute! We should talk."

"Talking is the most important part of mingling, don't you think?" Britt giggled. "Come on, I'll show you faculty housing."

* * *

><p>Next – Ms. Natalie Cole<p> 


	9. Fever

_Sun lights up the daytime_  
><em>Moon lights up the night<em>  
><em>I light up when you call my name<em>  
><em>And you know I'm gonna treat you right<em>

_You give me fever_  
><em>When you kiss me<em>  
><em>Fever when you hold me tight<em>  
><em>Fever<em>  
><em>In the morning<em>  
><em>Fever all through the night<em>

Fever – Ray Charles featuring Natalie Cole

* * *

><p>Kurt looked at the water glass full of red wine and laughed. Blaine would laugh if he saw this, Kurt stretched out on the bed, watching Bravo, drinking cheap wine from whatever glass was handy. Of course, Blaine's not here to see this, is he? He's out in LA having a marvelous time at a post-production party. Kurt wasn't bitter, much. Blaine's lucky to have gotten a series of well-paying jobs. Kurt's the one who insists on living in New York and Blaine humors him. If Blaine had his way Kurt would be living in LA and they wouldn't be apart so much. If Blaine had his way Kurt would be chasing a house full of kids. If Blaine had his way Kurt would concentrate on his song-writing first and then the singing, instead of the other way around. If Blaine had his way...Kurt poured another glass of wine and thought about that truly awkward dinner he'd just endured.<p>

Mercedes was his oldest friend, they went back to middle school. Sam was his closest friend, closer to him than his brother Finn. He should be happy for them, was happy for them, but Kurt can't stand being ignored.

* * *

><p><em>"So we're going to burn down the garage and collect the insurance money." Kurt said, pushing the salad around on his plate.<em>

_"That's nice." Mercedes said, staring at Sam._

_"Yes, I figure I can afford a sex change operation. If it's not enough I'll kill Finn and that ought to make up the difference."_

_"Really, that's great!" Sam said, not taking his eyes from Mercedes._

_"Are you listening to me?"_

_"Un hum, something about insurance?"_

_"Listen, it was great of you to offer to have dinner with me but..."_

_Sam, listening now, sat upright - ready to bolt as soon as Kurt gave them permission._

_"But Kurt, I haven't talked to you in months." Mercedes said, trying to sound sincere._

_Sam relaxed, trying to hide his disappointment._

_"Well then call me! Bring my goddaughter to Manhattan to see a play. There's somebody else that would like some of your time."_

_"But..."_

_"No buts!" Kurt signalled for the waiter. "I'll take care of this. You two, well I think you two know what to do."_

Kurt turned off the TV and stared at the ceiling. He was a lucky man, he knew that. He had a decent job as a speech therapist, a nice apartment, a handsome husband. He picked up the journal Blaine gave him last year and started flipping through it. Sam kept pushing him to show this to Patrice, she's got a book of music but not much in the way of lyrics. She has singer/songwriters at the diner every Friday night, she can help him. Damn, Sam's a nag. He put the book down and picked up the remote, but not before hearing noises from the adjourning hotel room, Sam's room. Okay, they're both single adults but still...ewww! He turned the volume up. Too loud cause they're banging on the door.

"What do you guys want now?"

"Open up!"

"Jesus." He took his time opening the door. "Don't you have something more interesting to do..." He opened the door to his curly-haired husband, standing there with a bottle of champagne and a pair or wine glasses.

"Well, yes I can think of something more interesting to do. We can skip the champagne if you prefer."

"Blaine!" he squealed with delight. "I thought you were in LA!"

"I'm supposed to be. They won't miss me for one night. But I can only stay for one night, I have to go back in the morning."

"Well come on in Cinderella. Time's a'wasting."

* * *

><p><strong>Several days later<strong>

"You look pretty pleased with yourself." Patrice put the coffee pot down in front of Sam before heading off to take care of a customer. When she came back she started off when she ended. "Everything go okay in Ohio?"

"Excellent. Just excellent. Thank you for breaking up with me."

"Any time." she smiled at him. "I'm happy for you, really I am. Seeing the look on your face convinces me I was right."

"And the look on your face? What's up? How was the coffeehouse?"

"Not bad. I definitely need to pre-screen the talent but it was good overall. It was a good night and we made more money than we usually do on a Friday night."

"And Alice's friend? How was he?"

"Joe? Pretty good. Kinda folky, you know. Not a terrible guitarist but self-taught and you could tell. God! I'm a snob, aren't I?"

"No, you're just an excellent classically trained guitarist. Is he coming back?"

"All the way from Ohio? Not hardly. He just happened to be visiting family or something or other. Joe's not much of a talker. He spent the night and barely said two words."

"Spent the night?" Sam leered at her. "That dog!"

"Not like that. It was late so he stayed in the spare room. You have a lot of nerve, calling somebody a dog." But still she was happy about something and Joe evidently wasn't the cause.

"Okay Patrice, spill it. What are you up to?"

"So take a look at this." She put an ebook reader on the counter.

"I didn't know Apple made these." he said turning it over in his hands.

"It's new."

"I'm kinda shocked you bought one. You're always going off on those anti-Apple rants. Almost broke your arm patting yourself on the back for not owning a smartphone like everybody else on the planet. Steve Jobs died of a broken heart, waiting for you to break down and buy an iPhone."

"I didn't buy it." she said smugly.

"Five finger discount? Way to stick it to the man, P!"

"You ought to thank your teacher, those asshole lessons are really paying off." She grabbed the device from his hands. "No, I didn't steal it. Look at this." she turned on the player and a commercial started. "It's called an an iBook. But listen to the music in the commercial."

He listened for a minute and then ran around the counter and hugged her. "Congratulations! Are you rich yet? You gonna buy me that pony like you promised? You promised!"

"I only got paid $5000 for the licensing fee." She couldn't wipe the grin from her face. "But the air play? Priceless. You know what that nano commercial did for Feist? And to think, some random guy I pegged as a sketchy perv, turns out he really does work for an advertising agency."

"So how are you going to milk this?"

"I don't know. It's on iTunes now. I figure I'll just sit back and wait for the checks to roll in."

"Congrats. Of course, now you have to finish those songs you're working on. People will want to hear more."

"It's under control." She waved her hand vaguely. Sam's such a nag she thought. So NOT under control, Sam thought. "So when you going back to Ohio to see your sweetie pie?"

"In a couple of weeks." Sam said in response to his favorite subject. "She wants me to hang out with Marti."

"Who's Marti?"

"Her daughter. She's almost five. Looks just like Mercedes, beautiful. She's got Shane's height but nothing else. Thank god for that. Anyway, she wants to make sure we get along."

"Who doesn't get along with you? So you'll be leaving me?"

"Eventually. I can work from there as easily as here. You'll be fine."

"I guess I'll have to be." They both knew she'd survived worse than this.

* * *

><p>Sam looked around the green room, which wasn't green at all. It looked like any other waiting room he'd ever been in, only with better food. A snack tray, barely touched, was in the corner. A huge monitor hung on one wall. He sampled the fruit salad and watched Patrice breezing through her song. Sketchy perv, Sam made a mental note to call him Chandler from now on, from the advertising agency had a boyfriend who works a producer at this late night talk show. One last minute cancellation and Patrice is making her television debut. One song, 4 minutes is all they promised her but she's making good use of it. The same people who would barely look up if she was playing at an open mic are going wild thanks to that Apple commercial.<p>

"Your girlfriend is good." A tall Asian man holding a clipboard said to Sam. "She's a really fine guitarist."

"I'll tell her but she's not my girlfriend."

"No? I thought I heard her call you her partner."

"No, we work together. I do a webshow and she does all the music."

"She's Gloria?" Chandler asked with excitement.

Sam beamed. "You've seen it?"

"Of course! Spencer." He held out his hand. "My name's Spencer and my boyfriend, Chandler, watches it all the time. We were at a diner and she was playing. Chandler, I said, isn't that from that show you watch? Why not use that for your commercial? See, this is what happens when Chandler listens to me."

"That was a lucky break for Patrice. But no, she's not Gloria. Gloria is a composite of a few people."

"It's a writer thing. I get it, we interview writers all the..." Spencer looked at his vibrating phone. "Damn! Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Sam turned to see Patrice shaking hands with the host and leaving the stage. Then a commercial break.

"How was being on the TV machine?" He asked when she walked into the green room.

"Not much different than the diner." She said in a blasé tone and then grinned. "Actually it was awesome! I loved it!"

"Well, do you want to go back to Jersey or hang out here for the rest of the show?"

"Let's hang and scarf down these goodies."

"Your desserts are better." Sam said, selecting a cookie.

"Amy does all our pastry work now." Patrice picked up a croissant and tasted it. "You're right. I'll tell her you said that." She picked up a tart and tasted that. "Nice filling. Damn, I wish I had a plastic bag so Amy could taste it. Next time I'm bringing her instead of you. Hey Spencer! Got a bag?"

"Patrice!" A flustered Spencer ran over. "Thank god you're still here! Another cancellation, can you believe it? I've got 15 minutes to fill. Can you do it?"

"15 minutes?" She thought for a few seconds. "Sam, you want to do that piece we're working on for Amy's wedding? You talk up the webshow, I'll talk up the diner. Chandler – make sure we have 4 minutes at the end of the show. And can Sam borrow a guitar? Sam! Stop whining, you look fine. Amy is particularly fond of you in this particular tshirt." Sam blushed beet red. "Come on, Superman, give the women something to look at while I mesmerise the men."

* * *

><p>Joe was carrying a box of mangos into the kitchen when he stopped before the open door of the front office. His bosses, Tim, with his wife Alice sitting on his lap, and Mercedes were huddled in front of a computer. The voice coming from the speakers was like nothing he'd ever heard before, deep and raw and it stopped him in his tracks.<p>

_Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on_  
><em>Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long<em>  
><em>We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above<em>  
><em>Dance me to the end of love<em>

"I never heard her sing before." Alice said. "Damn if she can't go all Billie Holliday when she wants to. If we can pry her away for the diner I'm sure she'd come, just for the publicity. See, Mercedes, here's where Sam comes in. He could bring her along the next time he comes. When's he coming back?"

"Next week. We're taking Marti and Gabe out to the lake."

"Great! I'll call her and ask her to play here."

"Who is that?" The three of them jumped, surprised to hear Joe's voice.

"Hey Joe!" Tim recovered first. "It's Patrice, I think you played at her diner a couple of weeks ago? She's famous these days. A song she wrote is on a commercial running right now. Alice is trying to convince her to make her Midwest debut right here."

Alice was texting furiously. "I can get her a Saturday night in Columbus and a Sunday afternoon in Toledo." Mercedes looked impressed. "Live music is all about connections and Tim and I have friends all over the midwest. Plus Patrice is hot right now." She looked at an incoming text. "Yes! She hired a manager for the diner so she can get away for the weekend."

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday night<strong>

Patrice reread the article Kurt sent her a link to. Camping left Sam unreachable, but what could he do about this out there anyway? They could decide what to do on the plane back tomorrow. This piece of trash was was such a long rehash of her sordid past, maybe no one would make it to the part about Sam. The stuff about her? So what, who care? Well, Kurt was sympathetic, she barely knows him but he was sweet enough to call and talk to her for an hour. Besides Kurt, and whoever reads this industry magazine the article's coming out in, nobody knows the shit's about to hit the fan at least if she's any judge of Sam's probable reaction to the last paragraph in this hack piece.

"Do you need anything else?" Patrice looked up, startled, to see Joe clearing the table she was sitting at. "We're closing" he explained. "Do you need anything?"

"Advice. You got any?"

Joe looked around nervously. He reached for his hair, as if at one point in time it had been much longer, and settled for running his fingers through what was left. What was left reached his shoulders. Patrice noticed that when he played the diner, how edgy he seemed, but then a lot of musicians seem on edge. "I'm not much good with advice." he said finally.

"How about an opinion? You went to school with Sam?"

Joe looked around again. "For about a half a year. I was home schooled and wanted to try school. I didn't like it much so I left."

"Tell me about it. If McKinley was half what Sam described I would have left too. So you don't know Sam that well?"

"He was on swim team and a year ahead of me. The only time I saw him was glee club, and God-squad." Joe smiled at that memory.

"God-squad?"

"It was a Christian group. That's where I met Mercedes, one of the owners here. We prayed and did charity things. I liked that. That and glee club. The rest, no, and those two things weren't enough to convince me to stay. I got a GED instead." He seemed a little more relaxed so Patrice started to help him clear the tables as they talked.

"My grandfather was a minister, kind of. It was a very small church, they called it a house church. At least that's what my grandmother called it. Ever hear of that?"

"I belong to a house church. I mean, it's not just me. I come from a larger than average family. I have two married brothers and they have children so there's lots of us at the farm on Sunday." He smiled nervously, unsure of her reaction. Would she think living on a farm was odd? "I live on a farm. Sometimes I stay in town if it's really late but I live on a farm."

"I'm an only child from the city." She smiled, hoping to relax him. It seemed to make him nervous again. "Anyway, my grandfather originally bought the diner as a base for his church. Turns out serving food made more sense. When he died my grandmother joined the local church. Sunday lunch is half-price if they bring in the church bulletin."

"That's a good idea. Tim and Alice should try that." He took a deep breath and sat down. "So what was your problem? The thing you wanted help with? Would I have to know Sam well to help?"

* * *

><p>Dance Me to the End of Love – Madeleine Peyroux's cover of Leonard Cohen.<p>

Next up – Norah Jones and trouble ahead.


	10. Here We Go Again

_I've been there before_  
><em>And I will try it again<em>  
><em>Any fool, any fool knows<em>  
><em>That there's no no way to win<em>  
><em>Here we go again<em>

_Here we go again – Ray Charles featuring Norah Jones_

* * *

><p>Patrice turned away from the airplane window and looked at Sam. If you didn't know Sam you wouldn't know how upset he is. He's drinking, a lot, and you might notice that, but Sam gets quiet when he's drinking and Patrice appreciated that. She's seen enough loud, angry, violent drunks to last her a lifetime. Quiet she can deal with. But how long is this going to last?<p>

"Kurt's picking us up at the airport." Patrice said softly.

"No, we'll take a cab."

"I'm not paying for a cab."

"Then I'll pay. I can afford a cab."

"Kurt wants to pick us up. He wants to talk to you."

"Kurt! He would have been real helpful about 4 years ago."

"How so?" she asked innocently.

Sam signalled the flight attendant for another beer. "Kurt should mind his own business."

"I'm sorry sir, but we have a four drink maximum." The attendant smiled apologetically, "Airline rules."

"I understand." Sam pulled out his notebook and stared at the blank page.

"Maybe" Patrice hesitated. "Maybe she was trying to help."

"Help? Maybe she was trying to help?" He laughed. "Pity, Patrice. It was pity and charity and blood money. 30 sheckles of silver to assuage her guilty conscious."

"Sam, don't go quoting the Bible on me. It was the only book in that house. My foster mother made us memorize it inside and out. You're a writer, you know big words. In-vest-ment. Ever hear that one?"

"What kind of investment? My show lost money for three years. She just kept funneling the money in, trying to support poor pitiful homeless inept Sam Evans."

"Sam, that's how investments work. That's why I didn't take a salary form the diner for years, until the cash flow was right. And the show's making money now."

"Because of you. People tune in because they've heard the commercial and want to hear your music."

"Get real! It started making money before that. Anyway the commercial is because of the webshow. That's how it works, we help each other. Why can't you accept her help?"

"So why the big secret, P? Why not just come out and tell me?" Cause she knew you'd act just the way you're acting, Patrice thought. "Because it was pity, that's why!" Sam answered his own question.

"Did you take any pictures?" Patrice asked with a melodramatic sigh.

"What?"

"At the lake. You went to a lake, had a lot of fun, remember? Did you take any pictures?"

He dug the camera out of his backpack and handed it to her.

"There's no naked pictures on this, is there?" She leered at him. He scowled back.

Patrice looked at the first picture. Mercedes and Marti. Sam was right, Marti was a clone of Mercedes. She was sitting on her mother's lap with a solemn expression and her little afro-puffs. "She's a pretty little girl. Looks just like her mom."

"Yes, she's very pretty." That's the one damned thing Shane got right.

"Does she always look so serious?"

"She's kinda shy and she doesn't really know me. There's pictures of her smiling."

"Who's this?" Marti was sitting on a blanket in a purple room. Next to her sat Latino boy with curly black hair.

"That's Gabe. He lives with them. Go to the next picture." Patrice looked at a picture of a Latina with Gabe on her lap, a blonde, and Mercedes with Marti on her lap. "Santana, Gabe's mother. Brittany, Santana's girlfriend."

"They all live together?"

"No, Britt lives in Columbus. But she spends most weekends there." The next picture was the same lineup at a lake house.

"They all went?"

"Yes, we all went."

Patrice looked at the house in the photograph. "Somehow I heard lake house and thought of something rustic, like a cabin in the woods or something. This looks like a regular house."

"That what is is, a regular house in a little town on a lake. It's not very fancy."

"And it's her's?"

"Yes! And that's just the point!" He said angrily. Here we go again, Patrice thought. "She used to go there all the time when she was younger. Her parents have owned it since she was a kid! And one, she never told me about it and two, she always acted like she hated nature. See, you just never know with her."

"Just because her parents forced her to go there doesn't mean she liked it. I don't like the woods and shit."

"Figures you'd take her side." Sam put on his headphones, ending the conversation.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Saturday night at the lake.<em>**

_"It's so beautiful here. Mercy." Mercedes, a lake, a full moon. It didn't get any more beautiful than this in Sam's eyes.  
><em>

_"If you like bugs." Mercedes said putting her flashlight down next to Sam at the picnic table. "I can take it or leave it but Marti likes it here."_

_"Is she always so shy?"_

_"I was shy, before I discovered music. So was Shane until he found sports. She likes nature, plants, animals. Maybe she'll be a botanist or something."_

_"Does she always talk about Shane so much? I mean, she never met him."_

_Mercedes sighed."No. That's new. Gabe never met his dad but he knows he's alive somewhere. Gabe just started this thing where he points to men and asks 'Is that him?' Marti's got nothing to look at but a tombstone. And Shane's mother..." Mercedes chewed on her lower lip and stared at the lake._

_"What about her?"_

_"Shane was her oldest child, her only son. Marti's all she has left of him. Ms. Tinsley's keeps Shane's old room like a museum. I have to find a way to tamp that down. Shane was human and he made mistakes. We all do. I just have to find the right words or insist that Ms. Tinsley comes to our house to visit. It's not fair that Shane gets painted as perfect, not fair to anybody."_

_"Do you think Marti's jealous? Of me?"_

_"Yes." She looked at Sam, practically glowing in the moonlight. "I think she is. Gabe acted up when Britt resurfaced but he's seen so much of her he's used to her now."_

_"I'm thinking of moving to Ohio. I can work from anywhere and I'd like to get to know Marti better. Would you like that?" He put his hand over hers._

_"You know I would." She answered with a dazzling smile.  
><em>

_"I feel like a kid asking you this, but since the house is full of sleeping women and children would you like to discuss this further in the car? Maybe seal it with a kiss?"_

_"You know I would." she leaned over a kissed him tenderly._

_"Momma!" a small voice behind them called.  
><em>

_"Marti," Mercedes was first startled and then alarmed. "How did you get down here to the lake by yourself in the middle of the night?"_

_"I heard your voice. I followed it."_

_"Don't do that again! You could get hurt."_

_"I woke up and you were gone. I was scared that something happened to you." She whimpered a little.  
><em>

_Mercedes shot Sam an apologetic look. Sam shrugged. "Pick me up!" Marti demanded, knowing she now had her mom's undivided attention.  
><em>

_"Marti! You're too old for that."_

_"I'm tired." she whined._

_"Tired little girls stay in their beds." Mercedes observed.  
><em>

_"I'll do it" Sam offered._

_"I'll walk." Marti said stubbornly. Sam chuckled softly. Just like her momma. Marti headed back to the house, tripping over a tree root._

_"Are you sure?" He asked. The little girl stopped and looked at him, weighing her options. She decided to wait for him to catch up and let him pick her up, just this once. This changes nothing, her look said. My mom and I are doing just fine without you, thank you very much.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Blaine's running late so it's just us kids!" Patrice frowned, she hadn't planned to stay long, just dump Sam here and run. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed.<p>

"Well, that sounds like fun but..."

"No buts." Kurt put out a bottle of wine and wine glasses. Sam filled a glass and stared out the window. Kurt raised on eyebrow to Patrice. She nodded.

"So Patrice." Kurt handed her a notebook "you can look at this while Sam and I chat. Now Sam..."

"When did you find out?" Sam asked abruptly. "How long have you known Mercedes was my secret investor?"

"From the beginning." Kurt admitted. "Don't look at me like that! She had money to invest and you needed money. What's the big deal?"

"I don't want her damned money. I told her that. Why is it always money with her? Why does she think she can buy anything and anybody? I'm not for sale!"

Kurt sighed and put down his wine glass. "Who said she's trying to buy you? She had to put the money somewhere."

"I bet the whole time she's been feeling sorry to me."

"No Sam, she's trying to raise a child, trying to make sure she's provided for. Mercedes has other things on her mind besides feeling sorry for you." Kurt put his arm around Sam. "This isn't about pity. It's business. Just like investing in that coffeehouse in Lima was business."

"So I'm just business to her?"

Kurt laughed. "Which way do you want it? Business or pity?"

"Both." Sam leaned against Kurt. "Neither."

Patrice glanced at the two of them, Sam sobbing in Kurt's arms, and turned back to the notebook. She knew Kurt would never have shown her this is he wasn't so desperate to get Sam over here. She scanned his lyrics. He's a good writer, she could work with this and she desperately needed a writing partner. And hadn't Sam said Kurt had a good singing voice? Between putting yellow post-it notes on the pieces she wanted to copy she looked over at the two men.

She'd known Sam well enough that there wasn't much in the article that surprised her. She knew he'd been homeless for a while, but she hadn't known how well-off his childhood had been before that. She'd always assumed he'd been semi-poor his whole life. But that explained why he sent so much of his money back home, why he kept saying he wanted Stevie and Stacey to have a 'normal' childhood. She'd known he'd been a dancer (his words) or stripper (the article's words) but hadn't realized he was so young at the time, just barely 16. The article mentioned Mercedes as his ex-girlfriend/current investor, rehashed Shane's murder and the wild accusations made at the time, implied Sam was her latest boy-toy, That was the point Joe missed, something you'd have to know Sam to get. This was about pride. Pride and Mercedes. Sam could accept plane tickets and hotel rooms from Quinn. He could accept furniture and dinners from Kurt. He could accept music and a dirt cheap apartment from Patrice. But somehow help from Mercedes was different, an insult to his masculinity.

Which is another odd thing, when you think about it. Mercedes was rich, and he's macho about that. He's supposed to provide for her like it's 1950. But here he is, crying in Kurt's arms. Kurt's got to be the most effeminate gay guy ever but Sam loves Kurt like family and he's doesn't care who knows it. Patrice put that thought aside and turned back to the notebook. Yes, this wasn't a waste of time at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Three months later<strong>

"I'm going to Baltimore to play in a festival. Artscape. It's in a couple of weeks."

"So why are you leaving now, if I can be so rude as to ask." Amy, Patrice's friend and newly appointed general manager of the diner, asked with a smirk.

"Well, if you must know, I'm thinking of getting married and I'm meeting his parents for the first time." She eyed Sam carefully. "I've talked to them but never met them in real life."

"Married! To who?" Sam asked, sputtering on his coffee.

"P, he meant that in the 'who's the lucky man?' sense, not the "who the hell would marry you?" sense."

"He'd better mean it that way." She gave Sam her best stink-eye. "Anyway, Amy, his name is Joe."

"Joe the Ohio virgin?" It was a good thing the diner was closed considering the show Sam was putting on.

"Oh Sam, you are batting a thousand today!" Amy said with a dramatic eye-roll. "So what if he's a virgin? No bad habits to break is how I look at it."

"But how do you know..."

"How do I know what, Sam? What is there to know? It's not like he got injured in some farming accident or something. He just decided to wait. People used to wait all the time back in the day."

"Yeah, like two thousand years ago! And he knows you didn't wait?"

"Yes, he knows. He knows everything about me. Thanks to that article that your friend Mr. Ben-Israel wrote ain't a damn thing the whole world doesn't know about me."

"Well, how did this happen? How do you even know him?"

"We talked when I was in Ohio."

"That was months ago. " Sam stared at her for a few minutes. "Wait a minute! Is he your Skype buddy, one of your on-line students?"

"Sam doesn't miss a trick, does he?" Amy snickered.

"Yes. That was his idea, on-line guitar lessons. That's why he called me originally and after a while we got to talking and.."

"Yeah, I guess Skype's the best way to go with a guy like him. So you said you THINK you might get married?"

"Don't tease the man." Amy interjected. She'd known for a while there must be something behind Patrice's newly-found bubbly personality. "She's getting married all right!"

"Well who's running the diner while you're off seducing farm boys?"

"That's why I hired Amy, you ass! She wanted to get away from that high-class restaurant in Manhattan for something closer, I wanted to be able to get out of this place occasionally. Why do you always have to be such an ass?"

"You'd better get all that foul language out of your system, Miss P. They don't allow that kind of talk down on the farm." He said, sulking.

"Who says I'm living on a farm? We'll live here."

Sam looked at Patrice, the way her eyes were sparkling and how she couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "You're right, I'm an ass. Congratulations, I'm happy for you." He picked up the papers he had been reading and hugged her on his way out of the diner.

* * *

><p><strong>Later that night<strong>

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Sam."

"Sam who?"

"Sam the ass, who's here to apologize."

"Greetings, Sam the ass." Patrice opened her apartment door. "You can start grovelling now."

"I'm really sorry." He sat down at the dining room table. "It's just your announcement caught me at a bad time." He put down the papers he was holding, the same ones he'd been looking at in the diner earlier.

"What is it?"

"I guess you could call them divorce papers."

"Your parents are getting divorced?" And why would they send the papers to Sam?

"No. My secret investor and I. Look at this." He pointed to a sheet full of numbers. "That's all I mean to her. Our whole relationship reduced to dollars and cents. Strictly business."

"Wow! That's a lot of money! I mean, poor baby." She patted Sam's hand. "But that's a lot of money!"

"Subtract the blood money she paid me, add the trivial amount of advertising money I made, add the 2 million dollar buyout she negotiated with some investment group.."

"Damn, she's a hell of a negotiator." Patrice interrupted.

"Probably behind that one too if I know her. Anyway, subtract her 25% of the profits off the top and that leaves around 1 and a half million."

"Damn it Sam, you're fucking rich!" And the saddest rich guy she'd ever seen.

"Don't forget your cut. You get a third of what's left."

"You don't have to do that. I just wanted some exposure for my music, which I got. I never expected to get paid. To tell you the truth I thought we were talking about one third of nothing." You're looking at over a million dollars! Smile, damn it!

"Well, you're getting paid. Use it to start your married life."

Excellent point, Mr. Evans. "Speaking of which, do you think you can come? I know it's short notice and all but...you're kind of the only family I have left."

* * *

><p><strong>Two weeks later<strong>

"Hey Blaine! Is Kurt around?" Sam knew he wasn't by the way Blaine was dressed when he opened the apartment door. As in like a guy who just came in from a run as opposed to like a guy who just stepped off a runway.

"Nope, but he'll be back tomorrow. Went to Ohio." Blaine stood aside and let Sam in.

"Really? He didn't mention it when I talked to him last week."

"Last minute decision. Patrice's wedding, which is kind off odd since he doesn't know her that well."

"Well, they've been spending a lot of time together writing songs." Sam felt a small pang of guilt, Patrice had really wanted him to be there.

"That's probably it. She doesn't have a family, does she? Shame, such a rough life. Yes, that makes sense." Blaine balanced himself on the arm of their leather sofa.

"Yeah." Sam said, at a loss for what to say next.

"Well, anyway, since you're here can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Is Kurt alright, I mean is he alright with me?" Maybe it's his actor's training but Blaine's ability to shift instantly from casual conversation to laser intensity has always unnerved Sam. Plus Sam can count on one hand the number of conversations he's had with Blaine where Kurt wasn't with them.

"What are you asking me, specifically?"

"I love him, and I think he loves me, but he's been distant lately. Is he desperately unhappy and I'm missing it?" He focused his stare on Sam.

"I don't know, maybe it's because you've been working so much?"

"But I'm home now and he left anyway." Blaine stood up and started pacing. "I finally convinced him to show me what he writes. It's all sad, lonely, angsty stuff. Stuff about lovers living in separate worlds, you love your work more than you love me, that kind of stuff. Maybe that's how he feels about our relationship."

"Or maybe that's what sells. They sold a couple of pieces and it was sad stuff. You should ask him point-blank. He'd tell you if there's a problem." Blaine looked doubtful. "So why didn't you go to Ohio with him? Patrice wouldn't have minded."

"I don't really know Patrice and I just got home." Blaine shifted back to casual. "I came home to surprise him and he was already halfway out the door. He was very apologetic but felt he should do this for her." It wasn't a totally implausible story, once you thought about it. He didn't go to Ohio just to get away from his husband. On the other hand, "You know her better than anybody, why didn't you go?"

"Her ex-boyfriend showing up at the wedding? Kinda inappropriate, don't you think?"

Blaine looked at Sam like that was the lamest excuse he'd ever heard. "I guess." Probably trying to avoid Mercedes, Blaine thought. "So anyway, I'm about to start cooking breakfast. Join me?"

"No thanks, I have an errand to run."

* * *

><p>Home stretch! Next up, Elton John.<p> 


	11. Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

_It's sad, so sad_  
><em>It's a sad, sad situation<em>  
><em>And it's getting more and more absurd<em>  
><em>It's sad, so sad<em>  
><em>Why can't we talk it over<em>  
><em>Oh it seems to me<em>  
><em>That sorry seems to be the hardest word<em>

_What do I do to make you love me_  
><em>What have I got to do to be heard<em>  
><em>What do I do when lightning strikes me<em>  
><em>What have I got to do<em>  
><em>What have I got to do<em>  
><em>When sorry seems to be the hardest word<em>

_Ray Charles featuring Elton John_

* * *

><p>Sam had visualised the farm as just that – on old farmhouse with cows and pigs and chickens. This was nothing like that. "Welcome to Hart House – Bed and Breakfast" the wooden sign beside the main road said. A large house was full of turrets and bay windows, Queen Anne style Sam remembered from his Art and Architecture course, and sat on top of a hill. On either side of the big house, tucked back from the road, were two smaller houses. More like what he expected, farmhouses with wide porches. Sam parked the rental car and walked toward the house.<p>

"Come round back!" the hand lettered sign said so he followed the buzz to the backyard.

If you didn't know better, you'd think they were having a Sunday picnic. The patio behind the big house was full of people and picnic tables. The overflow was sitting on quilts scattered around. Each of the smaller houses had a garden behind it, vegetables in one and flowers in the other. That's where Sam found Patrice, picking flowers with one of Joe's many brothers.

"Sam! You made it!"

Click! Sam turned to see Mercedes behind him, taking Patrice's picture. She waved the camera at him. "Working. Don't mind me."

"Joe's going to be so glad you got here in time!" she grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him along. "And Kurt, he's around here somewhere. Mercedes, have you seen Kurt lately?"

"Nope, I'm stalking you, waiting to see your bridezilla side. Maybe with Santana?"

"Jason, can you do me a huge favor? Do you remember my friend Kurt? Can you go find him? Thanks." The middle school aged boy walked off, evidently brother #6 – Jason, unless his t-shirt lied. "What time is it? Almost sunset? Damn, that was cutting it close Sam."

"I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about it."

"I'm just glad you came." she whispered. "See, you saw her and the world didn't come to an end. Who knows, maybe you can even talk to her."

Mercedes had already gone to find Joe. As a wedding photographer it's her job to at least keep track of the bride and groom. She carefully framed the photo of Sam, Patrice and Joe. Whatever Patrice had felt for Sam was definitely over now. Mercedes could see it, she looked at Sam the same way she looked at Kurt. Joe, on the other hand, she adored. Mercedes remembered how young love felt. Damn she felt old. She looked at Sam through the camera lens. Sam was looking at her but she knew the camera was blocking his view of her face. Good.

"It's almost time, we should get changed." Patrice took Joe's hand. Click! "Mercedes, why don't you keep Sam company till the actual wedding starts?"

"No can do, this is the most important part, taking pictures of the bride getting ready."

"All I'm going to do is put on a dress." They were both wearing jeans and t-shirts. His said Joe – Groom. Hers said Patrice – Bride.

"No, really Patrice, it's part of my gift to you. Believe me, you'll want these pictures. How long are you staying. Sam?"

"I'm flying back tonight with Kurt."

"Oh," Did she sound disappointed? She put the camera back to her eye. "So, anyway, Patrice. Who's helping you get dressed?"

"I've been dressing myself for over 20 years now. It's not that difficult. Why don't you and Sam catch up?"

"I'm working. Sam knows how to reach me." She walked off towards the dressing room.

"You can't say I didn't try." Patrice muttered. "Listen, I've got to go change. Just grab a burger and sit anywhere. There's no bride's side, groom side. It's kind of upside down, there's so many children here we had the reception first so the kids don't have to stay up so late. After the wedding we'll have cake but she'll be done taking pictures soon. Talk to her! Please?"

**At the Wedding**

"So, Sam. We haven't seen much of you lately. What's up?" Santana looked off to where Gabe and Marti were playing with a pack of children.

"San!" He hugged his ex-girlfriend. "So how's Britt?"

"She's fine. Where have you been?"

"Working. I sold my show, of course you must know all about that. That's what prompted Jacob to write that article, rumors about the sale of the show. So as part of that deal I'm a "Creative Director" whatever that means, but it's a good salary for doing next to nothing. Patrice is the 'Musical Director" which means she gets paid to listen to music. Right now I have a lot of irons in the fire, as my dad says. I'm trying to select my next project, trying to decide where I'm moving..."

"Right, you live with her."

"No, Sam doesn't live with Patrice. He lives in totally separate apartment." Kurt explained.

"So you're moving?" Santana ignored Kurt. "Back to Lima?"

"No. Not Lima. Nashville. My family's there and finally I have enough money to buy them a house. That's been a goal of mine since high school, and now..."

"Oh." Since Sam wasn't moving to Lima Santana was no longer interested in what he was saying. First she needed to know if there's somebody in Nashville waiting for him. She'd weasel that out of Kurt later. If not, how to get him to move to Lima was her second problem. She needed time to come up with a plan. "Isn't that kid good?" She meant the pianist, one of Joe's brothers, and yes he was good.

Jacob, brother #5, according to his t-shirt, started playing Pachelbel's Canon. Sam didn't know that was the name of it but he'd heard it before. Kurt and Blaine used it at their wedding with a flute, harp and cello when they walked down the aisle together. Quinn's mother had a 16 piece chamber orchestra play it as Quinn walked her down the aisle. It was a fairly traditional pick for a wedding march so everybody turned towards the house, expecting to see Patrice make her entrance. The brother finished and still no Patrice. Then he played the next song. It took a while for Sam to recognize it – Fields of Gold. Everybody turned to look out over the field adjourning the house – not barley but sunflowers – miles of sunflowers blazing in the setting sun. and in the middle of the field Joe and Patrice were holding hands, walking towards the house, just a couple in love out for a walk.

Even with all he's been though, maybe because of it, Sam's a sap for romance. Patrice barely knows Joe but so what? What has all these years of knowing Mercedes gotten him? He looked over at her, working. Fast, efficient, a blur in her purple sundress. God that was a pretty dress. No! Years of knowing her brought nothing but heartache.

"Doesn't she look beautiful, dress blowing in the breeze?" Kurt whispered. meaning Patrice. "God, I love weddings. Nice fake-out playing Canon. I've got to compliment her on that."

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:  
>Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.<br>Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.  
>Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf<br>Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,  
>Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.<p>

Kahlil Gibran on Marriage

She's so beautiful, Sam thought. Correction, this wedding is so beautiful. The sunset, the lights twinkling in the trees, the scent of the flowers in the garden, the sound of the children laughing, the poetry they're reading to each other. The brothers wrapping Joe and Patrice in the quilt they made, the wives of Joe's married brothers handing Patrice a necklace that says "Ma Soeur". Sister. Joe's mother saying how great it is to get a daughter without going through labor. You'd have to have a heart of stone not to be moved, Mercedes Jones had nothing to do with the tears he's choking back.

* * *

><p>"What was Mercedes' wedding like?"<p>

"Mercedes?" Kurt looked away from the east coast twinkling below the plane window. "It was nice. Small, very informal. Just family and a few friends in the pastor's office."

"I always thought she'd have a big deal wedding."

"It started out that way. Her dress was beautiful. One of those strapless sparkly ball-gown numbers? I helped her pick it out." Kurt frowned. That dress was the first clue, the fact that she let Kurt pick it out, no questions asked. Like she didn't really care. "Catered dinner, live music, over-the-top wedding cake, the whole deal."

"Then what happened, that it ended up the way it did?"

"It was the cake. Well, it wasn't the cake but that's where the blow-up happened. I guess melt-down is more like it. We were at the cake tasting, me, Shane, her mom, Shane's mom. I was looking at pictures of cakes and they were going round on the subject of carrot cake or red velvet. The moms wanted red velvet cause who ever heard of carrot cake at a wedding. So we're sitting there, tasting cake, and all of a sudden she starts hyperventilating."

"Really?"

"She's taking these big gasping breaths and looking around like she's caught in a trap. Baby, are you okay? Her mom asked. And she didn't say anything. The hyperventilation stopped as suddenly as it started and she just wandered off like she was in a trance. Shane looked totally confused and followed her out. The cake lady, she just started cleaning up, She told the moms they'd better start calling the relatives cause she'd bet the wedding's being cancelled, Sure enough, when they came back in twenty minutes later she's leaning on him like she can barely walk and he's announcing the wedding was postponed. Indefinitely. I remember telling you about that."

"What was I supposed to do about it?"

"Okay, it might have been awkward if you suddenly showed up out of the blue." Kurt conceded. "So anyway she disappeared for a bit, it took me a while track her down."

"Lake house?"

"How did you know that?" Sam shrugged as Kurt continued. "It took me a couple of days to figure it out. But there she was, hanging out with Ben and Jerry. Then just as suddenly she decided to get married, like the next day she was getting married, cause the marriage license was going to expire and she didn't want to waste the money. I'll give you $50 for another license I said but she was determined. Shane wanted to get married before she changed her mind again so that's what they did. Pastor's office and dinner at a restaurant for friends and family."

"She got married to save $50?"

"That's her story."

"That's crazy."

"I mentioned that at the time."

"That's crazy" Sam repeated.

Kurt stared out the plane window. Of course she didn't get married to save $50, that would have been insane. She was waiting for Sam to come back. Apparently Joe wasn't the only person in Lima with a no-sex-till-the-wedding policy but Sam didn't need to know all that. She stalled, hoping that Sam would came back for her, that Shane would get frustrated and move on. That particular piece of information only slipped out when Jack Daniels replaced Ben and Jerry as the pain-killer of choice and was something they both pretended to forget she'd said out loud once the fog of alcohol lifted. Sober the next morning Kurt tried to tell her Sam riding to the rescue was unrelated to whether or not she should marry Shane but she didn't want to hear that. The next day she saw a picture of Sam and Quinn at a movie premier – "Local Girl Hits the Big Time!" the headline blared. Two days later she was married.

* * *

><p>"So, what did Sam have to say?" Tina asked the next morning.<p>

"Nothing." Tina frowned at her friend. "As in I didn't get a chance to talk to him. I think he really just came to see Patrice get married. She was as surprised as I was. I have to show you the pictures. Joe's mother got all weepy when she saw Patrice wearing her old wedding dress. Evidently Joe's parents were hippies back in the day and that dress is back in style. They got married at sunset in a field of sunflowers. Fields of Gold was playing, they both wore white and were barefoot. It was beautiful. Not quite sunset with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background but stunning in a retro/country way. Anyway, as soon as Marti remembered who Sam was she got a stomach ache. San took the kids home while I finished taking pictures. It's didn't really matter because he had a flight booked right after the wedding."

"How did he seem?"

"Like he always is. An idiot. A smoking hot idiot."

"So you gonna call the idiot?"

"No. He knows how to reach me. Anyway, Marti doesn't like him."

"So?"

"So that's a problem." Didn't Tina see the problem in that?

"And you changed your mind on the puppy? You gonna get her one?"

"No, I'm not getting her a puppy. What's that got to do with anything?"

"So when it comes to a puppy you're in charge, but Marti gets to veto Sam?" Didn't Mercedes see the problem in that?

"She's my daughter!"

"She's a child."

"But she's had such a hard life!"

"Mercy! She's well provided for and surrounded by people who love her. Sam could be one more. Why you don't think you deserve to be happy, that's the question."

* * *

><p><strong>three months later<strong>

Sam opened the door to the house his family was renting. Everybody was gone, off to the birthday brunch his mother had arranged as a diversion. He wished he could have seen the look on the twins faces when they saw the sweet 16 birthday present he'd gotten for them. Two Honda Civics, one red and one blue. He wondered how they choose. The blue one was still in the driveway, they must have taken the red one to the restaurant. While he waited he looked around the rental. It was a nice house but it wasn't home. They hadn't had a home since Sam was 15, a lifetime ago. Soon. Soon they'd go shopping for a home, a home for all of them.

Sam headed to Stevie's room, 2nd door on the left his mom said.

"Surprise!" His whole family jumped out from behind the bed in the room.

"Jeeze, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Almost don't count!" Stacey hugged her older brother.

"I'm supposed to be surprising you!"

"That's the beauty of the plan." Stevie squeezed in for a hug. "When you least expect it, expect it!"

"Welcome home, son. It's so good to have us all in one place again."

"Thanks dad! Mom! Hey, if everybody's here where's the other car?"

"Returned it!" Stevie announced proudly.

"Why? I wanted you to have it!"

"Stevie and I can share a car. I get it Friday, Saturday, Sunday and holidays." she winked at her twin. "And he gets it the rest of the time."

"In your dreams!"

"You didn't like the car?" Sam asked, sitting on the bed, trying to hid his disappointment.

"Yes, but we traded it for something better."

* * *

><p><strong>another three months pass<strong>

"Tina! You're late. You're getting slow in your old age." Mercedes had been just about to go back home, Tina was so late for their morning run.

"Still young enough to outrun you." Tina propped her foot against a wall and stretched. "Hannah bit me this morning. That's it for her, once they start biting the milk bar shuts down."

"More for Artie."

"Artie! Every time he looks in my direction I get pregnant."

"Three kids? I think he's doing something other than looking."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should..." They were interrupted by the roar of a motorcycle riding down the street. The rider parked in front of the bookstore on the corner and looked around. Then he turned off the engine and dismounted. "See, that's what I'm talking about." Tina murmured under her breath.

Mercedes didn't recognise the bike, or the riding gear. The rider's face was hidden by a full visor, but that walk. She'd seen that walk in so many dreams. _When he walks, he's like a samba. He swings so cool and sways so gently. _Get a grip, she told herself. He's just a man. He reached up to talk of the helmet. She braced herself to see that familiar lopsided grin, those dazzling green eyes, that mop of blonde hair. The helmet came off.

"What the hell happened to your hair?" she asked in shock.

"Hello Tina, Mercedes. Nice to see you too."

Tina gave Sam a hug and tousled his hair. "So it really was brown all along. And don't mind her, you should be used to her anti-social ways by now."

"Thanks Tina, I forgot how bad her manners are."

"As if!" Mercedes tore her eyes away from his lips and focused on his eyes. Did they always shine like that? "And I was just about to invite you in for coffee."

"And I was just about to invite you out for a ride."

"On that? Motorcycles are crazy dangerous you know."

"Not if you're trained. I mean, I made it all the way here from Nashville."

"I don't have a helmet." She wished he'd stop smiling like that.

"He's got an extra helmet." Tina pushed her toward him. "Have fun for once in your life, old lady!"

* * *

><p><em>When he walks, he's like a samba. - <em>that's from "The Boy from Ipanema"

Coming up - final Chapter - James Taylor and pie!


	12. Sweet Potato Pie

_Oh Lord I feel fine today_  
><em>I'm walking on cloud nine today<em>  
><em>I'm over that line today<em>  
><em>Happiness is finally mine today<em>

_I guess I'm just a lucky guy_  
><em>And I'm prepared to tell you why<em>  
><em>It's strictly on account of my<em>  
><em>Sweet Potato Pie<em>

Ray Charles featuring James Taylor

* * *

><p>"Hey Mercy!"<p>

"Hey Sam." Mercedes adjusted the webcamera so Sam could see her clearly. "You want to tell me again why I'm talking to you on Skype and not in real life?"

"Sure, In no particular order. Stevie and Stacey are about the age I was when I left home. I think I missed too much and I don't want to miss it again. Another reason, the house we bought. It needs a lot of work. It's not in a dive neighborhood but the people who built it must have been crazy. I know they're crazy cause there's a clause in the contract that we can't tear the house down. That's why it didn't sell, people just wanted the lot, not the house. It's a beautiful lot in a good school zone."

Mercedes laughed. "Listen to you, worrying about school zones."

"Right, I don't have much need of that but Stevie and Stacey are still in high school. Plus it's good for resale value. Anyway, the three of us are renovating the house. The way it was laid out is crazy. That's their job, supplying the labor."

"You know how to renovate a house?"

"Some. My dad and I did some work together. Before."

"Are they as hard working as you are?" Mercedes rushed past the sadness that 'before' represented.

"Stacey and Juan, her boyfriend, are hard working. Stevie, not so much. He likes to take off his shirt and leans against the fence until some neighbor girl shows up with lemonade."

"Does that work?"

"Pretty much. He's got the local girls trained."

"I guess a female heart isn't safe when the Evans boys are in town."

"One of the Evans boys has a heart that's already taken." He blew her a kiss from Nashville.

"So again, why are we hundreds of miles apart?"

"I'm playing hard to get." He said with a coy smile.

"That's such bull-shit!"

"No, really. I got this plan from Joe."

"Joe Hart? He's got no game."

"It only took him three months to get the girl he wanted so he must have something. They came down to Nashville, Patrice and Kurt. A songwriting junket their publisher sent them on. It was for some reality show winner, they're having two songs on the album. Anyhow, Joe came along for the ride and he helped me with the house during the day while Patrice and Kurt were working..."

* * *

><p>"<em>So how's married life?" Sam and Joe sat on the front steps of the new house, waiting for Stacey and Juan to get back from the hardware store. Stevie had disappeared with the girl who lived next door.<em>

"_It's beautiful!" Joe smiled thinking about his new life._

"_Beautiful?" Most men wouldn't use that word, but Joe's not most men._

"_Yes. To tell you the truth, at first I was a little worried. I mean, Patrice has had more experience in some things than I have." Awkward, Sam thought, but Joe ploughed on. "I worried that maybe she'd be disappointed, that I wouldn't compare well." Really awkward, Sam thought. "But then, the night before the wedding, I realized something. Jeremy, my youngest brother, wanted to play Candyland. Over and over again. That gets old, you know? But not to Patrice. She played it four times with him. Turns out she'd never played it before. Never. We'd discussed children, not eight but two maybe three, and she'd been worried that she wouldn't be a good mother, based on how she' been raised, Spending time with my family reassured her that I'd know what to do. So see, we could teach each other and that's beautiful. You know?"_

"_So the whole long distance thing was okay?"_

"_Yes, for the most part. Yes because it forced us to talk, that was all we could do so we know each other really well, better than most couples I know. No because, well, she's really beautiful. That last week, when she was staying at the bed and breakfast? That was torture. If she'd been in town the whole time I don't think I could have waited and waiting made the wedding night more special. You know?"_

"_Not really."_

"_Okay, not to be too nosy but I'm guessing you could get plenty of women if you wanted to, but according to Stevie you don't. Why not?"_

_Damn, some of Patrice's bluntness was rubbing off on Joe. "There's women I kinda like. Take Linda, the real estate agent that found us this house. I'm thinking I might..."_

"_Sam, there's a reason they call it making love, not making like. I think you know who you love, but yet you're waiting. Same thing with her. You should see the way guys slobber when she starts singing. She just smiles politely and shoves them out the door. Why the wait?"_

* * *

><p>"And I couldn't answer that question. I love you, I always have, but sometimes it's like we don't really know each other. Think about it, the only time we were together like a couple I was working and you were babysitting. You spent more time with Stevie and Stacey than you did with me. Then, when I came back, we spent most of our time hiding from Shane. And about the webshow? Totally my fault for overreacting, I blamed you when I would have been grateful for anybody else's help. And now when I come up to Lima to visit, I can't keep my hands off you. This is enforced talking."<p>

Mercedes frowned. "I guess it's better than letters. And for the record, I'm sorry about the webshow too. I shouldn't have been so secretive about it. I'm not sure what my logic was but I never wanted you to feel like it was charity, like I didn't really believe in you. I always thought it was a money-making idea, that once people saw a few episodes they'd get it. What I hate is the fact that I'm getting good at long-distance romance. If we had known that 10 years ago think of all the heartache we would have saved. When are you coming up for a visit and the handsy part?"

"Next month, for a whole week."

"Great, I'll get Marti used to the idea. Shit!" They were interrupted by the sound of screaming in Spanish. "Sorry Sam, I've got to go save Gabe's life."

"She screams at him like that?"

"No, she can contain herself when the kids are home. Right now Gabe and Marti are out with Britt. He kicked over a bucket full of what-the-shit last week and certain chickens are coming home to roost. I have to talk San down before the kids get back."

"What happened?"

"No, Sam." she suppressed a laugh. "You've got to see this with your own eyes. Speaking of which, can you move your visit up a couple of weeks? I know you're playing hard to get and I promise to keep my hands to myself that weekend, but I'd really like you to see this."

**two weeks later**

"It's Sam." Gabe called out in disappointment upon seeing Sam on the doorstep.

"It's him." Marti said unhappily.

"Marti! What happened to your manners?" Mercedes pulled Sam into a kiss. Marti huffed like that was the most disgusting thing she'd ever seen. "I'm think I'll have to send you to your room to look for them, Miss Jones."

"Welcome to our home." Marti said formally. "Our home!" She repeated, just to make sure Sam didn't get any ideas. She walked away before Mercedes could say anything else.

"Sorry about that." She watched the six-year old sashay across the room. "We're just waiting for the guest of honor."

"Whose that?"

"Just hold your horses. You aint' gonna believe it." the doorbell rang and the room fell silent. Santana stood up like she was headed to the gallows but Gabe beat her to the door.

"Daddy!" he screamed. Sebastian stood there, clumsily patting the head of the five-year old clinging to his leg. The man with Sebastian seemed to know just what to do, he picked up Gabe and started kissing him and cooing, in French.

* * *

><p>Sam sat on the porch swing of the quiet house, waiting for Mercedes to finish putting Marti to bed. Santana, Britt and Gabe were out to dinner with Benoit, his husband and the rest of Sebastian's family.<p>

"Sorry it took so long. I think Marti was hoping you'd get bored and leave." Mercedes slid into the seat beside him. "I wanted to give you this." she handed him a bundle of envelopes. "I never got them. From the dates I see they came to my house when I was gone. Back then, when I couldn't move to New Jersey, I went to Tina's for a month. I was in San Francisco when these came."

Sam looked at the package in his hands. "Shane read these?"

"No, I don't think so. If he did he steamed them open and resealed them. Not his style. I don't know if he meant to give them to me or if he was holding them as evidence. I don't know. I told you Marti and Gabe were playing dress up with Santana's stuff when that box with Sebastian's picture fell off a shelf? Well Marti started talking about Shane again and she and I were looking through some stuff that got packed away when I left Atlanta. I just found them."

"And you didn't read them?"

"They were written so long ago. I don't know if you still mean what they say, it that's what you'd write today."

He held up the first letter. "This one says how much I love you, how happy I am that you're going to be mine."

He held up the second letter. "This one was kind of like the first letter, only I added that we wouldn't be in a studio apartment over a diner for very long. That I'd take care of you, put you in the kind of place you deserve."

He held up the third letter. "This one was after you said you couldn't come. I said I loved you and begged you to call or write or get in touch with me through Kurt."

He held up the fourth letter. "This one says I love you but don't understand why you won't respond."

He held up the fifth letter. "This one says the things Shane can give you are obviously more important than whatever you pretended to feel for me and you two deserve each other."

He held up the last letter. "This one says goodbye."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I never got them. All I could think about was keeping Marti. I didn't..."

"I broke my arm when I was 7. I fell out of a tree." He said, interrupting her. "My mom said she didn't know if they could afford to keep me, the way I kept getting hurt. Of course she was kidding. After we got out of the doctor's office it was too late to go to little league practice so we went to the movies instead. Then we met my dad for dinner. I was going to get a car for my 16th birthday. A used car but a car so I could take Stevie and Stacey to little league and ballet lessons. We were trying to decide between two my dad picked out. I really wanted the one with the sun roof but my dad kept saying "if you want to see the sun stick your head out the window." that was his idea of a joke. Anyway it didn't work out that way-cars, baseball, ballet, how I spent my 16th birthday."

"I was working at a dairy queen then. The manager, she understood about my family's situation and said I could talk home all the ice cream I wanted, because it was my birthday. That night, Stevie started crying in the middle of the night. I thought it was from too much ice so I reached over to give him a hug and he screamed. He fell out of a tree, two days earlier, and was afraid to say anything. He walked around for two days, in pain with a broken arm, cause he didn't want to cost us any money. The hospital bill was $500, more than the rent on our apartment. That's why I had to...dance. At the time I thought "I'm the only kid who knows the exact second they grew up, that they stopped being a child." That's not true, lots of people know the day, the hour, the second they grew up. Part of me, the rational part, knows it's not my dad's fault the factory moved to China. What could he do about it? The other part thought "I'm never gonna put my wife and kids in that position. No matter what, I'm going to take care of them. That's stupid, what could he do about it? But that's how I felt. I always felt that you could never really love me because I could never take care of you the way Shane could."

"Sam, that's..."

He pressed his fingers to her lips and continued. "I know it's not true. Shane didn't have anything at first and you married him anyway. You were never looking for somebody to take care of you. You were looking for somebody who could return the unbelievable amount of love you have in your heart. It took almost 10 years but I finally figured that out. I can't believe you waited, and waited, and waited for me to use the brains God gave me. The house will be done in abut a month. How would you feel about me moving to Lima, maybe..."

"Oh, Sam! We were so young back then. Kids. I'm a different woman now..."

"I understand. I can't just barge in here and..." She pressed her fingers to his lips.

"A woman with conditions. Condition number 1. You have to promise to hold me. If I get sad, and can't find the words to say why, or if the words don't make sense, you have to hold me."

"I can do that."

"And if you get sad, you have to come to me and I'll hold you. I mean, that's only fair, right?"

"Deal!" He leaned in for a kiss but she pulled back.

"I'm not done yet! From now on, your people are my people. And if our people need anything we'll discuss it, understood?"

"Okay."

"Now here's the hard part. From now on, my people are your people. And I've got to tell you, sometimes my people can be a hot mess. Are you ready to sign on for that?"

"I can do that!" He leaned in for a kiss but still she pulled back.

"And here's the hardest part of all, maybe a deal-breaker. I'm an old-fashioned girl and can't be shacking up with random men from Nashville." Mercedes got down on one knee, "Samuel Joshua Evans, will you marry me?"

**Two weeks later**

"You two look radiant!" Kurt gushed at the nearly-weds. "Didn't I saw a morning at the spa would do you wonders?"

"And keep us out of the way for this last-minute, top-secret wedding you planned." Sam answered.

Santana looked at Sam and Mercedes. They were radiant all right, the kind o f happiness you don't get from a spa. "Can't I leave you two alone for 10 minutes?"

"She started it!" Sam blabbed.

Mercedes put on her innocent face. "Did not!"

"Did too!"

"It's bad luck to even see the bride before the wedding," Kurt said. "let alone...Well, we're all going to pretend it didn't happen. Now go get dressed."

"I need Sam's help." Mercedes said in a little-girl voice.

"What, you're going to do it again? Right here in the church?" Santana dragged her away by the arm. "Nope, ain't gonna happen."

Mercedes had been to weddings, lots of weddings. She remembered Judy and Andrew's – classic and traditional. The way the light from the stained glass windows glowed against Judy's tasteful white dress. She remembered Kurt and Blaine's – still pretty traditional. Both grooms in black tuxes walking each other down the aisle. Well, traditional until Burt, Britt and Tina started dancing to Single Ladies at the reception. She remembered Tina and Artie's. A traditional Jewish wedding under a chuppah on a hotel rooftop garden overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Also traditional except for the part where the groom steps on a glass at the end of the ceremony. Artie and Tina used Artie's shoe to break the glass together. She remembered Joe and Patrice's farm wedding and how they planted a tree together. She had no idea what Kurt, Tina and Santana had planned for them. She's seen the dresses, the color scheme seems to be lavender and purple. Yards and yards of purple, enough for a dress for Marti, trim on the dresses for Tina and Santana, vests and ties for Sam, Kurt, Sam's dad and Gabe. Mercedes is wearing a fairly simple white dress with purple trim along the edges. At the last minute Santana hands her a bouquet. Purple fabric roses. Enough with the purple already! She loved that color as a child, as a child! The ribbon tied around the bouquet clicked against her hand. Since when do ribbons click? She looked at it. It wasn't a ribbon at all, it was a cord. A cord with metal tips. A bolo tie!

Her father, a purple rose pinned to his lapel, took her arm. "Come on girl, don't let him get away this time."

* * *

><p>Mercedes stood on the alter, looking at Sam with his bolo tie and broad grin.<p>

"Bet you thought we'd never make it here." He whispered. "Told you Joe had game!"

"Yeah, right. I'm the one who asked you, remember?"

"I'll never forget it. But remind me every night, just to make sure."

"I will if you promise to remind me why every day."

"I will."

They winked at each other before turning their attention to what their mothers were reading.

_Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because that is what love is._

_Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two._

_From Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres_

* * *

><p>Their friends crowded on the small stage at McKenna's Coffee house, which had been magically transformed from a casual college hangout to an elegant supper club. Amazing what linens and matched tableware will do for a place. Mercedes hoped they wouldn't bust out a flashmob dance, another wedding tradition she hated. She didn't worry too much, Kurt knew she didn't like wedding cakes in general and cake smooshing in particular (they all agreed that smashing a piece of cake in your spouse's face was a bad omen for married life) and thoughtfully substituted a pie bar, highlighting sweet potato pie for the happy couple, for wedding cake. She trusted his taste level and knew no matter what, whatever was coming was coming from the heart. Artie started singing.<p>

Tina and Artie

_The book of love is long and boring_  
><em>No one can lift the damn thing<em>  
><em>It's full of charts and facts and figures<em>  
><em>and instructions for dancing<em>  
><em>But I<em>  
><em>I love it when you read to me<em>  
><em>And you<em>  
><em>You can read me anything.<em>

Kurt and Blaine

_The book of love has music in it_  
><em>In fact that's where music comes from<em>  
><em>Some of it's just transcendental<em>  
><em>Some of it's just really dumb<em>  
><em>But I<em>  
><em>I love it when you sing to me<em>  
><em>And you<em>  
><em>You can sing me anything<em>

Santana and Britt

_The book of love is long and boring_  
><em>And written very long ago<em>  
><em>It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes<em>  
><em>And things we're all too young to know<em>  
><em>But I<em>  
><em>I love it when you give me things<em>  
><em>And you<em>  
><em>You ought to give me wedding rings<em>

Quinn and Rachel

_And I_  
><em>I love it when you give me things<em>  
><em>And you<em>  
><em>You ought to give me wedding rings<em>

All together

_And I_  
><em>I love it when you give me things<em>  
><em>And you<em>  
><em>You ought to give me wedding rings<em>  
><em>You ought to give me wedding rings<em>

"Why such a sad face?" Bernice Tinsley asked her granddaughter. Probably her only granddaughter at the pace her daughter Gwen was going. Actually she was thankful Gwen was concentrating on medical school. "Such a sad face on such a happy day?"

"I don't know." Marti answered sulkily.

"Doesn't your momma look beautiful? And so happy?"

"Wasn't she happy when she married my daddy?"

Bernice gathered Marti on her lap. "Yes, she was."

"So why did she have to go and marry him? We don't need him!"

"No, you don't need him but he makes your momma happy. Isn't that a good thing?" No answer from Marti. "He's not awful, is he?" Still no answer. "I mean, he did go on that museum tour with you, didn't he?"

"Momma told you about that? " How momma and Uncle Kurt refused to leave the coffee shop at the Natural History Museum and Sam went on the tour with her.

"Yes. And that was nice of him, wasn't it?"

"I guess." Okay, so he got a point for that.

"And he said during the wedding he'd be the best dad he could."

"He's not my daddy!"

"You know what sweetie pie?" She pulled Marti closer t her ample bosom. "You're a lucky little girl. You have two daddies. One in heaven to find the right husband for you, one down here to chase off fools with his shotgun. Give him a chance."

Marti pondered that. "My daddy, my real daddy, knew him. Right?"

"Yes, he did."

"Did he like him?"

"No." Bernice didn't believe in lying, especially to small children. She looked at Marti's I-just-knew-it face. "But he had a reason for not liking him. They both loved your momma very much and she could only marry one of them. Your daddy would want your momma to be happy. He wanted both of you to be happy."

"But momma choose daddy!"

"Yes, she did. But they both loved her."

"But she loved him the best? Right?"

Bernice didn't believe in lying to children, but she didn't believe in telling them details that were none of their business either. Mercedes looked beautiful the day she married Shane. Today she was radiant, even Bernice could see the difference and she knew the happier Mercedes was the better it was for her granddaughter. "I think she loved them both. But she had to choose and she did. Now she gets a second chance. Isn't that good?"

And momma choose daddy first Marti thought to herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Three years later<strong>

Mercedes stood at the front gate, looking up and down the street for Sam. Sure enough here he comes, carrying one brown-skinned two year old and leading the other by the hands. He crossed the street and switched girls. Mercedes ran down the street to pick up the child Sam had just put down. They kissed over the girl's heads. "You're home early. I didn't expect you until dinnertime. You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just one baby this time, no prob. I finished up in LA and came back early. Kurt sends his love."

"I'm glad you're back. You can watch the girls while I pick up Marti from the bus stop."

"No need. She's home already."

"Really? Her field trip was that short?"

"No. They called the house looking for someone to pick her up. Luckily I was home already. "

"Is she okay?" he asked with concern. Even after three years Sam didn't quite understand Marti. She was polite, civil but not overly friendly. She warmed up a little after the babies were born but Sam still wasn't sure where he stood with her.

Donna and Rose, weren't identical, though people thought so at first sight. They both had caramel colored skin and wildly curly brown hair, Sam's mouth, Mercedes' nose. The difference was in their eyes, Donna had Sam's green eyes and Rose had Mercedes' brown eyes.

"She's not sick if that's what you mean. She wanted to wait til you got home. She said you only wants to say it once."

Sam and Mercedes carried the girls up to their room, past Marti sitting in the living room reading a book.

"Hey, Marti!" Sam called out.

"Hey." Marti never addresses Sam by name but at least she doesn't call him 'sir' anymore.

After putting the girls down for a nap they joined Marti in the living room.

"You want to talk about it, baby?" Mercedes put her arm around her daughter. Sam sat down on the floor facing Marti.

Marti started with a huge sigh. "There's this girl, Rikki. Rikki Nelson. She teases me all the time. I try to ignore her, like you'd want me to, but today we saw him. We saw him at the zoo." She said it as if Sam had no business being at the zoo.

Mercedes looked at Sam, questioning. "Yes, I took the girls to the playground near the zoo."

"You walked all that way?" No wonder the girls were exhausted.

"Anyway" Marti wrestled her mother's attention back. "We saw him at the zoo."

**Earlier that say at the zoo**

_"See!" the little blond girl said to her friends but loud enough for Marti to hear. "I told you her father was a bum."_

_"Shut up!" Marti felt her hands clinch. Bad enough to see Sam and her sisters, did Rikki have to be here too? "He has a job."_

_"If he has a job then why isn't he at work? Why is he sitting in the park in the middle of the day? Cause he's a lazy bum, that's why."_

_"Don't talk about my father like that!"_

_"Father? Ha! He's not your father, anybody can see that!"_

_"You know what I mean." She growled in a tone Rikki should have paid attention to._

_"He's a bum." She repeated to her friend. "My daddy said he used to be a stripper! He got naked for money. He did!"_

_"He never got naked for money!"_

_"Sure he didn't." Rikki said sarcastically. "He was a homeless hobo. My daddy said if your mom hadn't picked him up outta the gutter he'd still be there today."_

_"Take that back!"_

_"Why should I? It's nothing but the truth!" Rikki started to walk away, dismissing Marti._

"Then she fell down." Marti said in her best 'Who? Me' voice.

"Fell down? Marti!"

"She fell down!" Marti insisted. "It was an accident. He" she nodded at Sam "packed a peach in my lunch and it was too soft and squishy to eat. I just wanted to get her attention."

The peach landed a couple of steps in front of Rikki, who turned to hurl another insult at Marti but kept walking forward. Anyone could tell it was a total accident that she slipped on the peach. Marti couldn't help but smile thinking about the satisfying splat that peach made as it exploded under Rikki's foot, landing her flat on her back. She decided to leave out the part about the bees.

"It's not funny Marti. You have to call her and apologize."

"For what?" Had her mother gone mad?

"Marti, your mother is right. You have to apologize."

"After what she said?" Marti noticed the expression the flashed briefly across Sam's face, a sad look she'd never seen before. "She's so stupid! She is poppa! She's a stupid baby. She sucks her thumb when she thinks nobody's looking. She does!"

"That's not the point. The point is we don't go around hitting people, or throwing things at people."

"But mom!"

"This isn't a debate! You're going to apologize. Then your father and I will figure out what happens next."

"Call, Rikki was her name?" Sam stood up. "Call her and apologize. Do that first. Then wake up your sisters. I don't want them to stay up all night. Thank you, Marti."

Marti stood up with a huff, thinking about the unreasonableness of it all, and left the room. She came back with the kitchen phone and dialled the number from the class phone list. "Hello Rikki, it's Marti. I'm sorry you tripped on a peach." She listened for a few minutes. "Well I don't control bees and what's the big deal? You didn't get stung, did you?" She rolled her eyes and listened again. "I said I'm sorry! Bye." She hung up and stomped away. They could make her say I'm sorry but they can't make her feel it. Not after what Rikki said about her poppa.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." Sam idly rubbed her belly, though at five months and one baby instead of two there wasn't much to rub. "What did you parents do when they heard about Kurt's windshield?"

"You had to go there, didn't you?"

"I don't know, Rikki was asking for it."

"So not the point. I wonder if she's related to Rick 'the Stick' Nelson from high school. That would explain a lot. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree as my grandma used to say."

"My grandma said that too!" He grinned at his wife. "Hey, she called me poppa. That's the first time she ever did that."

"I noticed. And I think she meant it."

* * *

><p>Before waking up the girls Marti stopped in her room, She pulled out the cigar box she used to hold her treasures from the top drawer of her dresser. She picked out her dad's Superbowl ring and turned it over slowly in her hands. She looked at the ring every day, sometimes sleeping with it if she had a bad day at school. Maybe she was getting too old for that. Or maybe not. She put the ring back and picked up a small white box. She carried the smaller box to her bed. Inside the box was a small purple velvet pouch. She dumped the contents of the pouch on her lap. It was a locket, a silver locket engraved with a heart and an M. Inside the locket was engraved "I love you to the moon and back". She'd loved that book when there was just the two of them. Of course there was Gabe and his mom back then but they were a set, too.<p>

She picked up the locket and turned it over in her hands. She hadn't looked at it in years, not since the day she got it. Sam gave it to her, that morning he married her mom. He said he hoped it would remind her how much he loved her. To the moon and back. She's wearing it in the wedding photos but that was the last day she wore it. Poppa. She didn't intend to say it out loud, she'd only been practicing it in her head at Aunt Gwen's suggestion. It didn't sound too bad, not really, and she had to call him something. She's really smart, Aunt Gwen is. When she babysat a couple of weeks ago she gave Marti this idea.

_"Maybe, if you think of Sam as poppa it won't feel so wrong, I mean, my brother Shane can be daddy and Sam can be poppa. Then it won't feel like he's trying to take your dad's place, like you're being a traitor if you're nice to him. Poppa instead of daddy. See how that works?"_

Aunt Gwen, Doctor Aunt Gwen, is really smart Mart thinks. Marti put on the locket and went to wake the girls.

**The End**

* * *

><p>The Book of Love – Peter Gabriel (2009)<p>

"Your people are my people..." is from the bible (Ruth 1:16-18)

"I love you to the moon and back." is from Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney

The wedding quote came from a website OffBeatBrides which is a must-go-to if you're writing a non-traditional wedding. Kurt and Blaine's first dance came from there too.

Martha, Donna and Rose are all Dr. Who shout-outs and Gwen's from Torchwood

Bonus

**Kurt and Blaine  
>Entrance - together to Pachelbel's Canon<br>First Dance**  
><em>I feel so smoochie<em>  
><em>When I hold your hand and look in your eye.<em>  
><em>I feel so smoochie<em>  
><em>When I touch your lips, then I realize<em>  
><em>That to hold you near<em>  
><em>Makes rainbows appear,<em>  
><em>And life is just one long kiss,<em>  
><em>While the moon looks down<em>  
><em>And the stars kind of frown,<em>  
><em>And say, "Golly, look what we miss!"<br>I Feel So Smoochie – Nat King Cole (1947)_

**Tina and Artie  
>Entrance - Tina escorted by both her parents - SunriseSunset (Fiddler on the Roof)  
>First dance – Tina and Artie<br>**_I'm starting right here_  
><em>Starting now, right now because<em>  
><em>I believe in your love<em>  
><em>So I'm glad to take the vow<em>  
><em>Here and now<em>  
><em>I promise to love faithfully<em>  
><em>You're all I need<em>  
><em>Here and now<em>  
><em>I vow to be one with thee<br>You and me_  
><em>Your love is all I need<br>Here and Now – Luther Vandross (1989_)

**Judy and Andrew  
>Entrance - Judy escorted by Quinn and her older sister to <strong>Pachelbel's Canon<strong>  
>First dance – Judy (Quinn's mom) and Andrew (Sebastian's dad)<strong>  
><em>But, oh my dear<em>  
><em>Our love is here to stay<em>  
><em>Together we're going a long long way<em>  
><em>In time the Rockies may crumble<em>  
><em>Gibraltar may tumble<em>  
><em>They're only made of clay<em>  
><em>But our love is here to stay<em>  
><em>Our Love is Here to Stay – Gene Kelly (1951)<em>

**Patrice and Joe  
>Entrance - together to Fields of Gold (Sting)<br>First dance – Patrice and Joe**  
><em>Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone<em>  
><em>Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon<em>  
><em>Show me slowly what I only know the limits of<em>  
><em>Dance me to the end of love<em>  
><em>Dance Me to the End of Love - The Civil Wars (2011)<em>

**Mercedes and Sam  
>Entrance - Mercedes alone to Love Me Tender (Norah Jones)<br>First dance – Mercedes and Sam  
><strong>_She's the giver I wish I could be_  
><em>And the stealer of the covers<em>  
><em>She's a picture in my wallet<em>  
><em>And my unborn children's mother<em>  
><em>She's the hand that I'm holding<em>  
><em>When I'm on my knees and praying<em>  
><em>She's the answer to my prayer<em>  
><em>And she's the song that I'm playing<em>  
><em>And she's everything I ever wanted<em>  
><em>And everything I need<em>  
><em>She's everything to me<em>  
><em>Yeah she's everything to me<em>  
><em>She's Everything – Brad Paisley (2005)<br>_


End file.
